Desiccated and Drowning
by QueenOfTheDreamers87
Summary: 1970. A curse from Dumbledore in battle drains Voldemort of his magic. Weakened and powerless, he hides in his home with the one Death Eater who tagged along with him from battle - Bellatrix Black. With enough time and enough wine, the crippled Voldemort starts to see some value in the reverent Bellatrix... and she's certainly willing. Bellamort. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

August 1970

"Albus Dumbledore!" Voldemort sneered the name with derision as he stalked around a tree. To his right, he could see Dolohov and Yaxley tangled in duels with Dumbledore's lackeys. Bellatrix Black, his newest and youngest Death Eater, was standing over an unmoving form that seemed most assuredly dead.

Suddenly Dumbledore emerged from behind a tree, and he held his wand up with a steady hand.

"Perhaps this will stop you for some time, Tom," Dumbledore said gently, and those words made Voldemort hesitate for just long enough that he was socked with the blinding white spell from Dumbledore's wand.

"No! My Lord!" he heard Bellatrix screaming, and then he felt her hands wrap around his bicep.

Suddenly everything was hot and painful, and then everything went very quiet indeed.

It was as though water was draining slowly from Voldemort's body. That was the sensation. _Drip, drip, drip._ Something was leaching out of him; was it blood? He blinked his eyes open and frowned when he saw that he was on the floor in the entryway of his house in Cornwall. He could hear the waves that were outside and down the cliff.

"My Lord?" asked a soft voice from beside him. His eyes fluttered shut again against his will. "Are you all right, My Lord?"

"Bellatrix," he whispered, feeling the tip of her wand touch his chest. She murmured a few spells to wake him, and he felt her magic thrum through him like music. It was almost odd, the way her spells coursed through his empty veins.

"My Lord," she murmured again, "you're white as a sheet, Master. Oh, how can I help you? I wonder if there are potions stores here."

"My wand," he mumbled, and it was in his hand in a flash. He brought it to his own throat, feeling like he was moving through molasses, and he incanted, " _Reddo Vis._ "

Nothing.

Nothing happened. It was as though there was no magic within him, though that was a ludicrous thought. Voldemort frowned and instructed Bellatrix,

"You try that spell. _Reddo Vis_."

She obeyed him, and then he was gasping for air and sitting up straight. He scowled, rising slowly to his feet. He aimed his wand quickly at a Chinese vase in the main corridor, and he said firmly,

" _Confringo!_ "

His Blasting Curse didn't take hold, or even materialise from his wand. Voldemort's mouth fell open as he walked around his house, trying to Transfigure objects, change the colour of draperies, Conjure water… anything. But nothing worked. He threw his wand to the ground in the parlour and aimed his hand at his piano.

" _CONFRINGO!_ "

Nothing.

"My Lord?" asked Bellatrix in a shaking voice, and when he whirled on her, she shrank away a little. He watched her gulp and ask carefully,

"Shall I send an owl to the others? Letting them know their master is fine?"

She was more intelligent than he'd given her credit for being, Voldemort realised. He'd recognised an unhinged sort of ruthlessness within her, but this was different. He could see in her coal black eyes that she understood what had happened. Albus Dumbledore's curse had robbed the great Lord Voldemort of his power. It was almost certainly temporary; most wicked curses of this nature were short-lived but irreversible. This was terribly Dark magic for a man like Dumbledore to be using, though, and Voldemort had no way of knowing how long he'd be without his magic.

Bellatrix was right, of course. Sending an owl to Malfoy Manor informing the Death Eaters that Voldemort would return soon enough would reassure them. It would also allow him to hide here in Cornwall whilst the curse wore off.

"You may not leave," he told Bellatrix suddenly, and she just nodded. She understood this, too. Without memory alteration - a risky endeavour, and one Voldemort couldn't perform now, anyway - Bellatrix was the only person besides Dumbledore who knew that Lord Voldemort currently possessed no magical abilities. The fear on her face told Voldemort that she understood exactly what the ramifications of such a thing might be for her.

Voldemort rushed into his library and pulled open the drawer of the desk. He extracted a quill and some parchment. He dipped the quill into the ink and wrote,

 _Malfoy,_

 _I suffered a few wounds during the battle in Wales. Nothing egregious, but I shall be at my home resting for the time being. Send word of any casualties. Update me daily on goings-on. No battles or attacks until I give the word or return to the Manor._

 _LV_

"Take this. Go send the owl," Voldemort nodded crisply, passing the parchment to Bellatrix. "Come back downstairs as soon as you've sent it off; the owl is in a cage on the table in the upstairs corridor."

"Yes, Master," Bellatrix nodded, trotting out of the library and up the stairs. Voldemort watched her go, thinking to himself that she was awfully loyal and very competent. He tried to peer into her mind with Legilimency, for he could usually do it all the way across a building from someone.

Nothing.

"Damn you, Dumbledore," he muttered. He knew the spell Dumbledore must have used. _Dessicco Magicus_ , or the Magic-Draining Curse, was incredibly difficult to perform properly. Dumbledore had managed to send Voldemort through space, as well, which was annoying in its own right. Bellatrix seemed to have only caught the second spell, since she'd grabbed her master's arm in an attempt to save him. Her magic seemed unaltered.

Voldemort had performed a Magic-Draining Curse on a fellow student at Hogwarts, but he'd gone undetected, and the girl had wound up in St. Mungo's for three weeks until her powers came back. Three weeks. Hopefully that was all this would be. Voldemort could stay away from his minions for three weeks, but not for three months. As far as he knew, there was no counter-curse, no potion to reverse the effects. One simply had to 'wait it out.'

"My Lord." Bellatrix came bounding breathlessly into the library, dipping into a reverential curtsy. "How may I serve you now?"

"Now we wait, Bellatrix," Voldemort said tightly. He gestured out toward the expansive decking outside the house and suggested, "Why don't you go enjoy the view of the sea?"

She frowned. "My Lord, is there truly nothing I can do to help you?"

Voldemort shifted on his feet and shrugged a little. "You've helped plenty. You've demonstrated your worth. Your value. Your loyalty."

Bellatrix looked a little awestruck at the praise, and she blinked quickly as she murmured, "Master, I shall always do anything I can to preserve and enhance your authority. I feel… awful… that I didn't… that I couldn't…"

"You tried to push me out of way of the spell," Voldemort smirked. He drummed his fingers on his desk. "It was my own fault; I let my guard down for a half second. Do you like wine?"

Bellatrix's thick brows furrowed. "Wine, My Lord?"

"Yes. I find right now, devoid of power as I am and utterly bereft of anything to do, that I should like to drink some wine. Do you like wine?"

Bellatrix's full lips parted. She was rather pretty, Voldemort thought. Perhaps he could make use of that fact while they were here waiting indefinitely. She'd be willing. Of that he was certain.

"I like wine," she nodded, and he gestured for her to follow him from the library. He stalked quickly toward the kitchen, his robes billowing around him. He had to rifle around in a drawer for a while to find a manual corkscrew. He could have asked Bellatrix to open the bottle of wine with magic, but he wasn't going to spend weeks begging her for spells. So he twisted the corkscrew into the top of a bottle of red elf-made wine, and then he pulled the cork out with a little pop. He pulled down two large wine glasses from the rack to the left of his sink, and as he poured the wine, he heard Bellatrix say cautiously,

"This is your home. Dumbledore sent us to your home, My Lord?"

"Yes, this is my home." Voldemort handed her a glass of wine and said sternly, "We're in Cornwall. You'll forgive me if I don't give you information beyond that."

"Of course, Master. Thank you." She accepted the wine and stared down into it, her cheeks going a little pink as she asked, "And I'm to stay… until it wears off?"

"Yes." Voldemort sipped at his own delectably dry wine and dragged the pad of his thumb over his bottom lip. "I've a spare room you can use. Don't worry."

"I wasn't worried, My Lord." Her voice was just a little whisper then, and she raised her eyes to study him. She'd never been this close to him alone. She was thinking about that fact, and Voldemort didn't need Legilimency to tell. She thought he was handsome; her eyes gave that away. But she worshipped him beyond ordinary corporeal attraction. He was her master, her everything.

She would be willing, a little voice in the back of Voldemort's mind told him, though he wasn't sure why he was thinking about being physical with the girl in the first place. He almost never craved witches; his priorities were elsewhere. For some reason, today of all days, when his body felt empty and weak, she seemed awfully pretty.

"Would you care to go look at sea?" he asked, his voice hard as iron. He sipped again at his wine, and Bellatrix nodded, a tiny smile crossing her lips.

"The sea. Yes, My Lord," she said, following him from the kitchen, down the corridor and out into the blazing sun.


	2. Chapter 2

"So." Lord Voldemort swirled the tip of his long finger around the rim of his wine glass. With the sea behind him, he seemed almost like a statue, pale and handsome with features that appeared to be carved of stone. He raised his dark eyes to Bellatrix and mused, "Bellatrix Black. Tell me… why are you a Death Eater?"

"Why, My Lord?" Bellatrix repeated. She sipped from her wine and shrugged self-consciously. "I was at school and was always hearing about you. My parents spoke of you. And when I got to meet you in person at Malfoy Manor, I thought to myself… this. This is my life now. My life, my death. He must be everything - he and his cause. And so I suppose that's why I'm a Death Eater, Master. It never seemed as though I had much choice."

Voldemort looked a little surprised for some reason. He took an unusually large sip of his wine and then set the glass down on the small table on the deck. He stared out at the turquoise sea and just let the sound of the waves wash over them both for a moment.

"And do you enjoy it?" he asked at last. "Being a Death Eater. You've only had two months' real experience with it. What do you think?"

"I live for it, My Lord," Bellatrix answered automatically. "And I'd for it. For you."

She probably sounded like a fool, but she couldn't care. She watched Voldemort's throat bob a little, and he let out a long sigh.

"It is a strange sensation," he admitted. "For as long as I can remember, I have been flush with magical power. It is temporary, I know, but still I find it acutely uncomfortable. I feel as though I do not recognise the body in which I dwell."

"I can't imagine, My Lord," Bellatrix murmured. She frowned then, having a feeble idea, and she pulled her wand from its holster. She held it out to him, and he stared at the handle for a moment as she offered, "Perhaps if you try mine."

"Worth a shot, I suppose," Voldemort said. He took Bellatrix's wand and aimed it up at the sky, where a gull was soaring. He tracked the gull with the wand's tip for a moment and then cried, " _Avada Kedavra!_ "

For anyone else, Bellatrix supposed, that would have been an odd choice of spell for testing out someone else's wand. It seemed fitting for him. But it didn't matter; nothing happened. The gull flew on, and Voldemort huffed a little as he handed Bellatrix's wand back to her.

"There is no counter-curse, nor potion, so far as I know," he informed her. "Only time will make the curse wear off. I am stuck like this, at Dumbledore's behest, for who knows how long."

"I'm sure your magic will replenish more quickly than others' would do, My Lord," Bellatrix said assuredly. Lord Voldemort quirked up half his mouth and turned his eyes to her. He scanned her up and down, looking a little hungry all of a sudden.

"Would you like to entertain me?" he asked, and Bellatrix was so taken aback that she didn't answer for a moment.

"Entertain you, Master? I mean to say… I would like to do whatever pleases you."

"Hmm. Whatever pleases me. I find myself in rather dire need of pleasure just now." He stepped closer to her, reaching to tuck her wild curls behind her ear and surprising her. Bellatrix felt a flush of heat on her skin where he'd touched her, and she shivered despite the warm air.

"My Lord?" she whispered, feeling quite uncertain now of what he wanted. Perhaps he thought that he could leach magic from her by being physical. Or perhaps he was a man who had a young woman in his house and wanted her flesh. It didn't matter. She was willing either way.

"I do not often take witches," Voldemort said, tipping his head and dragging his fingertips down Bellatrix's cheek and jaw. "I do not care for the distraction. But here, now, I need a distraction, Bella."

 _Bella_. He'd called her _Bella_. Her breath quickened between her lips, and she watched as the look of hunger in Voldemort's eyes strengthened. His gaze moved to her tight jumper, to her breasts and her waist and hips. He studied her face again and told her,

"I do not like the sensation of being devoid of magic. I should like to be distracted. So, Miss Black… loyal Death Eater. Combat veteran at the age of eighteen. My servant and my ally… will you distract me, I wonder?"

Bellatrix felt a surge of confidence then, and she reached for Voldemort's fingers on her cheek. She moved them down to her waist and told him,

"My Lord, you are my master, my commander, my teacher and general. You own me; I am yours. If you feel empty and my body can relieve it, then I beg you… have of me whatever you wish."

"Bellatrix." Voldemort lowered his eyes and pulled his hand away slowly. His cheeks went a little red, and he scoffed, "Quite a little speech."

Bellatrix felt embarrassed then, staring out at the water and watching the white foam fold over the blue water. But then she heard Lord Voldemort note,

"You thought he was trying to kill me. Dumbledore. You grabbed at me… were you trying to sacrifice yourself?"

"I was trying to do anything I could to preserve my master." Bellatrix kept her eyes locked on the sea, though they seared a little. Beside her, she could see Voldemort pull out his wand and murmur a few spells at the little tree growing beside the deck. Nothing happened. He tucked his wand away and sighed, and he told her,

"You are brave in battle and loyal to me, and I find you attractive."

Bellatrix just nodded. "Thank you, Master."

"I am going to kiss you now," he said tightly, "because I desire it, and you will give me what I want."

"Of course, My -" Bellatrix turned her face to him, but she was cut off by the way he seized her face in his hands and immediately lowered his lips to hers.

He tasted like elf-made wine and something slightly more spicy. He urged Bellatrix to part her lips, which she did. He dragged his tongue over her bottom lip and then sucked it between his teeth. He was moving smoothly, confidently. He was in charge. Bellatrix's hands went on instinct to his shoulders, and at the sensation of touching him and being kissed, she let out a helpless little moan.

"My Lord," she gasped, when at last he pulled his mouth from hers. He stood up straight and cleared his throat, and he cleaned her saliva from his lip with his thumb.

"Long way until nighttime," he noted, "and we've nothing to kill but time. Do you like wizard's chess?"

"I'm not very good," Bellatrix smiled, "but if you wish to play, My Lord, then we shall play. You'll win."

"Naturally." His smirk was so handsome then, and he turned without another word to walk back into the house. Bellatrix picked up both of their wine glasses and followed him, dizzy from the kiss.

Perhaps, she thought, keeping her lord and master company whilst his magic returned would not be the worst thing in the world.

* * *

Author's Note: Thanks so much for reading! Although the "action" between these two has come on quickly, the real plot will be a bit of a slow burn. If you're reading, I'd love to hear from you. Thanks in advance for any comments.


	3. Chapter 3

"Checkmate. You were right; you're really not very good at this game." Voldemort smirked at Bellatrix as his queen annihilated her king. She watched in horror as her piece's head was lopped off, and Voldemort couldn't help but laugh under his breath. This was their third match, and she'd been trying each time, he knew. Chess just wasn't her game. Fortunately for him, the pieces were enchanted of their own accord, necessitating no magical output from him to play. He sighed as he sipped at his wine and pulled his wand out.

" _Reparo,_ " he muttered, intending on setting the pieces to rights so they could play again. But nothing happened. He was tempted to snap his wand in rage, but instead he managed to calmly tuck it away and clear his throat. "This is more than a little irritating."

"I'm sure it is, My Lord," Bellatrix nodded. She pinched her lips then, her pretty lips that he'd dared to kiss, and she asked him, "With all respect, are you quite certain that you'll… that the curse will wear off?"

"I know of no spell that permanently steals magic away," Voldemort shrugged. "And, anyway, Dumbledore specifically said the words, ' _perhaps this will stop you for some time._ ' He didn't say ' _forever._ '"

He'd also used Voldemort's ignominious former name, but he left that bit out for now. He eyed Bellatrix, thinking that after two and a half glasses of wine, she looked prettier than ever. He cleared his throat and said in a firm voice,

"I could just threaten you."

Bellatrix looked a little confused, so Voldemort sipped at his wine slowly and then clarified,

"I could send you away from here with a promise that if you so much as breathed a word of my condition, that I'd kill you myself… with a knife, with rocks, with whatever I could get my hands on. I'd strangle the breath right out of you if you told anybody what's happened to me. I could send you away with that promise."

Bellatrix's eyes went wide, and she set down her own glass of wine on the table that looked out over the sea with a bay window. Her hands shook as she folded them in her lap, and she promised him,

"I'd never tell anyone, Master, for I wish for nothing so much as your success. But if you want to send me away, you must do as you please."

"Such a good little creature you are," Voldemort scoffed, "and yet I've seen you torture and kill with my own eyes. A strange dichotomy within your soul, isn't it?"  
"If you say so, My Lord," Bellatrix nodded. She turned her face, letting the last kiss of sunlight bathe her pale skin, and she mused, "Your home is very beautiful. It seems to have been here for a while."

"It seems old," Voldemort corrected her. "It is old. It was a manor house built by Muggles a few centuries ago. Passed down through generations of a very wealthy family as a holiday home on the sea. And then I co-opted it, and the Muggles forgot all about it. They wouldn't see it if they drove by in their automobiles. All they'd see is brambles and bush."

"How very clever, My Lord," Bellatrix said. She kept on staring at the sea, and Voldemort took a moment to study her profile. She had a straight nose and sharp cheekbones, but the roundness of youth was still in her face. She was so very young, he realised. Too young for him to be preying upon like this. Too young for him to consider…

But she was willing, he reminded himself. She'd do anything for him. And she was pretty, and he would be bored, and she couldn't leave.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, and Bellatrix seemed to snap out of a daydream. She smiled a little at him and nodded.

"A little, Master."

"Can you cook?" he asked awkwardly. "I normally do it myself, but… not by hand, you see, and…"

And he had no magic now. Bellatrix gave him a reassuring little grin and said,

"Last term, in Charms, we practised our cooking spells by taking it in turns to make meals for the whole class. I got the highest marks making steaks and potato for everybody. The boys all wanted more."

"I have steaks here," Voldemort informed her. Bellatrix laughed a bit, and the sound made him shudder with very unexpected want. He watched her rise, and he found himself flying to his feet with her. He made a motion to Banish the wizard's chess with wandless magic, but of course nothing happened. Voldemort cursed quietly and picked up the board, setting it on the shelf behind him and feeling like a broken fool.

"In the kitchen, then, My Lord?" he heard Bellatrix ask from behind him, and he just nodded silently. He let her go, listening to her heels click across the tile floors. Voldemort stared at the chess board and wanted nothing more than to exact revenge on Albus Dumbledore. That blustering fool thought he could weaken Lord Voldemort with one little curse? It would wear off, and when it did, Voldemort's wrath would be unstoppable. He'd burn down Hogwarts if that was what it took to have his vengeance.

"How do you like your steak, Master?" asked Bellatrix from the kitchen. Voldemort gulped and called over his shoulder,

"Medium rare… if you please."

He wasn't sure why he added that last bit. She was his slave, after all. He needn't be polite to her. Still, she was unflinchingly brave in battle, and almost overwhelmingly loyal, and very pretty. He'd enjoyed kissing her. Perhaps he should have apologised for doing it, to himself and to her, but he didn't want to apologise. He'd liked the taste of her, the feel of her under his hands. He shut his eyes and had a sudden vision of her pulling her clothes off for him, whispering _Master_ as she got down onto her knees and…

Voldemort thudded his fist onto the wall and shook his head. This was pure lust driving him, and he never let himself be guided by such a silly feeling as lust.

Still, he wanted her.

Suddenly the house smelled of cooking meat, of butter and garlic, and Voldemort's mouth watered. He turned and walked quickly toward the kitchen, stopping in the doorway to watch the elegant dance Bellatrix was performing.

She had cooked potatoes mashing themselves up in a bowl with butter and roasted garlic. She had steaks on the iron skillet, searing on the second side. She aimed her wand at the steaks and incanted a few charms, then Summoned plates from the cupboards. She started doling out mashed potato and let the steaks rest on the plates, and she Scoured the skillet and bowl with a few flicks of her wand.

Lord Voldemort had never been so envious of another's magic in all his life, and he didn't even like to cook.

Bellatrix Banished the plates out to the dining room table where they'd been playing chess, along with cutlery and napkins.

"More wine, My Lord?" she asked lightly, putting the bowl and skillet away and Scouring the butcher block counters.

"I ought not have any more, probably," he admitted, feeling the distinct buzz in his head, "but… yes. More wine."

He needed it tonight. He needed it because he was empty, because Dumbledore had crippled him, and he was trapped in his house with a beautiful young witch whom he'd already dared to kiss. She carefully poured them each a fresh glass of elf-made wine, and something compelled Voldemort to pull her chair out for her at the table. But it didn't work, for he tried to do it with magic.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," he muttered, and Bellatrix stared up at him with wide eyes. He slammed his chair out and huffed down into it, and he growled through clenched teeth, "I can't do anything. I can't… I feel utterly mutilated. Fragmented. This is awful sensation; I don't care for it one bit, and I…"

He was seething, he knew, his hands smashed flat on the table. Bellatrix surprised him then by reaching for the fingers of his right hand. She seemed a little frightened as she laced her fingers through his, and he could practically hear her heart racing as she informed him,

"I have seen your hands produce more magic in the last two months, Master, than nearly everybody produces in their entire lives. You are a frighteningly powerful wizard. Even now. When the curse wears off, you'll be unstoppable, because anger makes us more powerful than ever. Don't you agree, My Lord?"

"Bellatrix…" Voldemort pulled his hand away from hers, feeling confusion rip through him. She recoiled back and murmured,

"I'm very sorry."

"No… you needn't…" He wasn't sure what to tell her then. That she'd said exactly the right thing? That her hand had felt magnificent tangled with his? He sighed and cut into the steak she'd made, and after he chewed and swallowed a bite, he nodded out at the sea. "Steak's good."

"Thank you, Master," she whispered, and they ate the rest of their meal in silence.

After she'd used magic to clean up their dishes and refuse, Voldemort waited for her at the bottom of the stairs. He beckoned for her to follow him, which she did. The house had started to go dark with the setting sun, and Voldemort realised he had no way of lighting the lamps without magic.

"You'll have that blue bedroom there," he informed her tightly. "It's got an en-suite bathroom. In the meantime, come into my room and light the sconces on the wall."

She needed no further explanation; she knew the way this was crippling him. She followed him into his large, black-and-gold bedroom, and she lit the sconces one by one.

"Shall I shut them off for you later, Master?" she asked awkwardly, and Voldemort huffed out a breath.

"I'll sleep with them on," he said, squaring his jaw. Something compelled him then to reach for her, to take her face in his hands, and he noted once more, "I could send you away with a promise to kill you if you spoke of this. But I don't need to do that, do I, Bella?"

"No, My Lord," she whispered, her eyes welling a bit. "You don't need to do that."

"Because you're very loyal to me, aren't you, Bella?" he asked, lowering his face just a little. She nodded, reaching up to cover his hands with hers.

"I live for you. I will die for you someday, I'm sure," she said. "But first, I shall live for you. Master."

"Say it again," he commanded her, for that word meant more just now than it ever had. He lowered his face further, his lips brushing against Bellatrix's as she hummed out,

"Master."

He kissed her then, much harder than he'd done outside. He hardly knew her; she'd only been in his service for a few months now. But somehow it felt like precisely the right thing to kiss her. If he was going to be empty and broken, and she was going to be loyal and beautiful and _here_ , then kissing her seemed like just exactly the right thing to do.

She tasted delicious, and when he put his hands to her ribcage, she felt wondrous. He pulled her close, suddenly not caring that he'd gone a little hard and she could probably feel it against her abdomen. She got brave with her tongue, pushing it into his mouth and moaning feebly as her knees gave out a bit. Voldemort pulled at her to hold her up, wrapping his arms about her and yanking her close. She reached up to his jaw, an act that would earn anyone else a Cruciatus Curse.

It felt good from her.

Somehow, he managed to pull himself away, feeling light-headed with his ears ringing. Everything tingled - the act of breathing, the pumping of his blood. It felt almost like magic again. He caught his breath and gnawed hard on his lip, finally finding Bellatrix's wide, shocked, pretty dark eyes.

"Your bedroom is the blue one," he told her again, gesturing vaguely behind her. "I trust you can Transfigure your clothing. Everything you should need is in there. Goodnight."

Bellatrix nodded, staggering backward a little. "Goodnight, My Lord."

She left then, her feet looking unsteady as she walked from the room and shut the door behind her. Voldemort dragged his hand over his short-cropped hair and let out a shaking breath. If only Dumbledore had known, he pondered, exactly what sort of curse he'd cast.

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you so much for the feedback! I'm very grateful to know what people are thinking as they're reading. This is an interesting Bellatrix dynamic to write since, for the time being, it's really just the two of them in isolation! I'm looking forward to writing the rest. :)**


	4. Chapter 4

Somehow, she slept.

It took hours. Bellatrix stared at the ceiling, her heart thudding as she realised that her lord and master was just across the corridor in his own room. And he'd kissed her. Twice.

She relived those kisses, touching at her lips and shutting her eyes, and she fell asleep. She dreamed of him, of Lord Voldemort. She dreamed that all of wizarding Britain bowed down to him and worshipped him as she did. Even lost in the crowd of his admirers, she could feel his pulse through his fingers onto her face, and her sleep was bliss.

In the morning, when she woke, it seemed awfully bright outside. The clock on the wall read nine, and Bellatrix gasped when she realised she'd slept so late. She hurried out of bed and neatened it up with a spell, taking a quick moment to more closely admire the blue brocade that filled the room. He had quite the sense of style, her master.

She took a speedy shower, scrubbing at her flesh and hair and drying herself off with hot air spells. She Scoured her teeth and mouth and face, and she yanked her wild curls back with a black ribbon. She Transfigured her clothes into a knee-length black dress of cotton crepe, and she pulled her wide belt around her little waist. She hurried downstairs, wondering if she'd be scolded for sleeping so long.

She found him outside on the decking, leaning on the rail and staring down at the sea. She wondered briefly how often he did that here at his home, how many hours he'd spent just watching the waves come crashing in. Bellatrix cautiously opened the door that led outside, and her feet padded gently on the wooden deck as she approached him.

"My Lord," she said reverently. He kept staring ahead, but the corners of his lips curled up a little, and he muttered,

"I was beginning to wonder if you'd sleep forever."

Bellatrix felt her face go hot with embarrassment. "I apologise, Master. My mother would wring my neck if she ever saw me sleep so late."

"Hmm." He seemed amused, and he finally turned his face, flicking his eyes up and down her form as he asked, "Is she very strict? Your mother?"

"She is," Bellatrix said truthfully, leaning a bit on the railing. "It hardened me as a child, I think. Every little thing I did was wrong, or not enough, or irritating. I think I was a great bother to her; she was very young when I was born."

"I know. She was a few years ahead of me in school. There was a great hullabaloo when Druella Rosier married into the House of Black straight away after graduating, and an even greater hullabaloo when you were born ten months later."

"Oh." It had never occurred to Bellatrix that Lord Voldemort had once been a Hogwarts student. She wondered what his name had been, though of course to even wonder such a thing was treasonous. She put the thought from her mind and said,

"My mother was much softer to Andromeda, and even more so to Narcissa. And now look at Cissy… but I suppose it's the way of all babies, isn't it? They have softer hearts, perhaps."

"I wouldn't know," Voldemort said, shifting where he stood. "I never had siblings. Not real ones, anyway."

That was cryptic, and Bellatrix wanted to know more, but she didn't dare ask for it. She stared at the clouds rolling in off the sea, and she mused,

"I suppose it may rain."

"Probably." Lord Voldemort drummed his fingers on the wood. "Fancy a walk on the beach before the rain comes?"

"The… the beach, My Lord?" Bellatrix was in awe. He wanted to walk on the beach… with _her_? She stared down at the smooth, white sand, and she asked, "How do we get down there?"

"We Apparate, of course," Voldemort said smoothly. Then, he pinched his lips and clarified, "Rather… you Apparate and take me by Side-Along. I trust you can manage a few hundred metres."

"Of course, Master," Bellatrix nodded. She pulled out her wand, and she sucked in air when Voldemort slid his fingers through hers. He stared at her then, and something made her squeeze his hand a little. He was so handsome, so devastatingly handsome and tall and -

"Let's go," he whispered at last. Bellatrix whirled hard to her right, and when they came to, they were on the sandy beach near some large boulders. Voldemort staggered away, looking dizzy and ill, and Bellatrix gasped,

"My Lord! Are you quite all right?"

"It's the… the Apparition…" Voldemort took a very long moment to just stand with his fingertips on his forehead, and finally he shook his head and insisted, "Very difficult to endure without magic of my own, I'm afraid."

"Oh." Bellatrix licked her bottom lip and eyed the ominous clouds on the horizon. She dragged her toes through the sand, relishing the feel of it, and then she heard Voldemort chuckle a little.

"When's the last time you were on a beach?" he asked, and Bellatrix smirked.

"Ten years, probably," she admitted. "We went to Portugal when I was small. Narcissa was so tiny… at least ten years, I'd say."

"Why don't you go feel the water round your ankles, then?" Voldemort suggested, his dark eyes shining oddly. Bellatrix giggled. She couldn't help herself. She dashed down across the beach, her steps dragging through the sand. At last she reached the waves, and she squealed with manic delight when the chilly water gushed round her ankles. She began to kick at the water, holding her knee-length skirts up a little. She dared to step out until the crashing waves reached her calves, and then she turned round to grin at her master.

He was leaning back against one of the large boulders, his arms crossed over his wispy dark green robes. He had a crooked little smile on his stern face. Suddenly the battle the day before seemed a world away. Getting her Dark Mark in June seemed like an eternity ago. It was like Bellatrix knew him, like they were real acquaintances, though of course that couldn't be so.

"Bellatrix!" Suddenly Lord Voldemort stood up straight, reaching quickly for his wand, his face going serious. Bellatrix whirled around toward the sea and then screamed a bit when a colossal wave dashed against her. Another followed shortly after it, and she lost her balance, careening down into the water. She spluttered, tasting salt and spitting out sand as she was hauled to her feet. She'd practically washed ashore, and now she found herself standing on the wet sand with Voldemort's arms around her.

"Waves are getting bigger," he noted. "Storm's coming in."

"Yes." Bellatrix shivered, soaked through and dripping. Voldemort brought his wand up to her hair, but he scowled when he seemed to realise just how useless that was. Bellatrix watched him tuck his wand away, and he pulled his hands from her wet body as he cleared his throat. He took a step back and stared at the sand.

"Why don't you go back up to the house?" he suggested.

"Shall I take you back with me, Master?" Bellatrix asked, but he shook his head.

"There are stairs… admittedly quite a lot of stairs, but… the Muggles that lived here before built some to access the beach. I'll take them back up. Go."

Bellatrix frowned. "But, My Lord…"

"Go," he said again, far more severely. His eyes were black as coal when they met hers, and he spoke through clenched teeth. "I gave you an order, Bellatrix; are you a Death Eater, or aren't you?"

Bellatrix just nodded and Disapparated, finding herself on the decking outside the house again. She stared down at him, at the place where he stood on the sand, and she decided to leave him be. She went inside, drying herself off with magic as she went. She padded barefoot into the library, scanning the bookshelves for an interesting title.

 _The Tale of the Scorned Witch_. That seemed entertaining, if nothing else. Bellatrix took the thin volume from the shelf and sat in one of the chunky leather chairs, opening the book and starting to read about Gisella and her no-good, philandering Muggle husband. After a while, the window in the library became speckled with rain, and after another half hour, the rain was falling so hard that Bellatrix could hardly see the grass outside the house. She shut the book and watched the rain, wondering if Voldemort was still outside.

She got her answer five minutes later, when he appeared at the door of the library, positively sodden. Bellatrix flew to her feet and curtsied, and she murmured,

"Shall I assist you, My Lord?"

"Yes," he said immediately. Bellatrix used all the nonverbal potential she had to minimise the embarrassment he must be feeling at her assistance, and she dried him off as best she could. She tucked her wand away, and suddenly Voldemort was charging into the library and snatching at her shoulders.

"I mean to kiss you until you're covered in bruises," he informed her. Bellatrix gasped, but her breath was wholly stolen by the way his lips crashed against hers, by the way his tongue delved hard into her mouth. He snatched at her hands and brought them to his chest, to the clasps doing up his robe. Bellatrix squealed into his mouth as she realised he wanted her to undress him. Her fingers shook like mad as she undid one clasp after another. He shucked his outer robe, and Bellatrix moaned as she pulled her mouth from his and saw that his arms were bared by the black layer beneath. He peeled it up and over his head, and Bellatrix's stomach lurched. He was tightly toned, his chest and stomach well-defined if thin. Bellatrix's fingers went on instinct to his shoulders, then down his front toward the place just above the waistband of his trousers.

He was going hard, she could see. She panted up at him, desperate for permission, and he nodded. Bellatrix unbuttoned his trousers and pulled him out, feeling him go firm in her hand. She gulped at the size of him, and he tipped his head back when she stroked a little.

"Have you ever… have you ever been a wizard before?" he asked, his voice choked a bit. Bellatrix didn't have the right answer for that, so she did the best she could.

"It's… complicated," she whispered. Voldemort frowned and lowered his face to hers, sounding breathless as he demanded,

"What do you mean, ' _it's complicated_ '?"

Bellatrix's hand froze, and she shrugged. "I was at school. They said it was a game. It wasn't really a game… they were drunk, and they snatched my wand, and they said they'd give it back if I let them touch me, but…"

"Who?" Voldemort was scowling now, and he batted Bellatrix's hand from his cock. She felt humiliated as she looked away and admitted,

"A few of the Slytherin boys. Rodolphus Lestrange made them stop; it was after curfew, and -"

"Who?" Voldemort demanded again, more sharply now. He tucked his member away and buttoned up his trousers, and Bellatrix muttered,

"Silas Travers. Maximus Malfoy. Porter Shacklebolt. Nero Selwyn. They were all big, Quidditch players, the lot of them. I couldn't get my wand back, so… I had to let them touch me. They said it was a game."

"And were they punished?" Voldemort's voice was like ice, and Bellatrix felt her throat burn at the memory of it all. His face looked so angry now, so she shook her head dismissively and said,

"They'd smuggled in firewhisky, Master. They were very drunk. It was late. I was out of bed past hours, and… no, My Lord. They weren't punished. Rodolphus made them give me my wand back."

"Where did they touch you? Forgive me… I lack my normal Legilimency abilities, or I'd see it for myself," Voldemort said, his voice still flinty. Bellatrix sighed and shook her head, staring at her feet.

"My… my chest. Between my legs. But I'm a virgin, My Lord."

"That is not what concerns me," he hissed. He pulled his outer robe on over his shoulders and whispered, "They will be punished."

"My Lord, it was months ago," Bellatrix insisted, but he seized her face in his hands and shook his head.

"I did not ask permission to punish them, Miss Black. They have committed an egregious wrong, the sort of thing my movement does not condone. Killing and wounding is one thing. Violation is another thing entirely, and I will not tolerate it. Three of the four you mentioned have Death Eater fathers. You think I'm going to simply forget what you've told me?"

A wild thought crossed Bellatrix's mind then, that she could try and Obliviate Lord Voldemort to make the whole thing go away. She was frustrated, because they'd been kissing and touching and then everything had ground to a halt over a stupid, painful memory.

"It was nothing," Bellatrix insisted, feeling a burn in her eyes. Voldemort scoffed.

"Nothing. That's not nothing, and they'll know how I feel about it."

There was a mighty crack of lightning then, which made Bellatrix wince, but Voldemort stared steadily into her eyes.

"You never ate anything," he noted dryly. "Go eat something. That's an order."

"Yes, Master," Bellatrix said, watching as he snatched his black shirt and stalked from the library.

 **Author's Note: Uh-oh… Voldemort's already feeling angry at news that someone wronged Bellatrix! We're going to skip ahead a few days into the next chapter, but I *promise* that real live lemons are coming soon. :} Thanks for reading, and a huge thanks for any feedback!**


	5. Chapter 5

"And so I said to him, ' _You bloody idiot, that's Erumpent Horn, not Bicorn Horn!_ ' He still managed to blow up the classroom. Slughorn had a fit over it."

Bellatrix laughed as Lord Voldemort relayed a story about his own time in Slytherin. They were eating spaghetti bolognese together at the dining-room table, and the sun was going down over the sea.

The last three days had passed in a hazy sort of peace. There was reading. There was wizard's chess. There were even Gobstones, which surprised Bellatrix as an object to be kept in the Dark Lord's home. They'd spent hours in the evenings just talking. They talked about Hogwarts, about the Dark Lord's goals, about the towns in Cornwall, about Bellatrix's routine of caring for her insane curls. They talked about everything. They never touched, but Bellatrix felt herself growing closer to him all the while. By the end of the third day, Bellatrix felt as though she truly knew the brooding man who was her master. Or, at least, she knew enough of him not to shy away when he smiled a little at her. He sipped at his wine and said suddenly,

"Earlier this morning, I Scoured my teeth. Well, I tried. I wound up cleaning them by hand, I promise. In any case, I felt just the slightest difference. I could have been imagining it, but…"

He pulled his wand out from the holster at his hip, and he aimed it at his empty plate of spaghetti.

" _Scourgify._ "

Bellatrix watched as a little glob of sauce disappeared from the plate. But nothing else happened, and Voldemort clutched at the edges of the table and looked very dizzy. He shook his head and muttered,

"I shall try again tomorrow."

"My Lord, I beg you not to wound yourself. This shows that the curse is indeed temporary. We must wait it out."

"We," he repeated, raising his eyes to her. They were cold and hard, and as he tucked his wand away, he commanded her, "Clean up the dishes."

"Yes, My Lord." Bellatrix Scoured and Banished the dishes, and once they were back in the kitchen, she asked, "Is there anything else I can do for you, Master?"

"Yes," he nodded. He folded his hands on the table and licked his bottom lip, staring Bellatrix directly in the eyes and making her flinch a little. Voldemort's throat bobbed, and he said, "I have waited, because… because waiting seemed wise. But I do not wish to wait any longer. I will have what pleases me. Go upstairs to my bedroom and take off your clothes. Wait for me on the bed."

Bellatrix felt her mouth drop open, and inside her chest, her heart thrummed like a plucked string. She just nodded silently and rose, and Voldemort reached for her hand. She stared down at him, and he seemed very sure of himself as he told her,

"I won't hurt you."

"You could if you wanted," Bellatrix whispered.

"Of course I could, but I don't want to," Voldemort replied. "Now go upstairs."

"Yes, Master," Bellatrix nodded. She padded quickly from the dining room and through the parlor. She made her way up the stairs, thinking that she shouldn't be surprised. There had been flirtation these last few days, and before that there had been kissing and fondling and he'd been shirtless in the library. This, what was happening now, had been inevitable, probably.

Still, Bellatrix's hands shook like leaves on an autumn tree as she stripped off her wide belt and her gauzy dress. She struggled to get her bra off because of how badly she was shaking, and she nearly tripped stepping out of her knickers. She folded everything into a neat pile on the trunk at the foot of the bed. Then she aimed her wand at her lower abdomen and incanted the temporary contraceptive charm all female Hogwarts students learned. The boys probably should have learnt it, too, Bellatrix thought distantly.

She dragged her fingertips over the black and gold brocade bedding where her master slept, and it took some effort for her to crawl up onto the high bed. She sat there on the edge, uncertain of how he wanted her, and she folded her hands nervously in her lap. Finally the bedroom door opened, and in the threshold stood Lord Voldemort.

He just stared for a long moment, which made Bellatrix feel abjectly self-conscious. But as he shut the door behind him, he murmured,

"You're very pretty indeed."

Bellatrix nearly fainted then. To hear those words from him of all people… she grinned and let out the breath she'd been holding, watching with fascination as Voldemort went to his wardrobe and started to undress. He pulled off his outer robe and stripped off the shirt beneath. Facing away from her, he asked Bellatrix,

"Are you attracted to me?"

Bellatrix frowned. "Yes, My Lord. Of course I'm -"

"Do not be a sycophant now." He turned over his shoulder and let her watch as he unbuttoned his trousers. She felt her lips go dry, and she licked them frantically. Voldemort's voice was low and silky as he said, "Answer me truly, Bella. Are you attracted to me?"

"Yes," she answered at once. She raised her eyes from his trousers to his gaze, and she nodded frantically. "Yes, I am."

He pushed his trousers down over his hips and stepped out of them, along with his underwear. He turned back to put the clothes into the wardrobe, and Bellatrix couldn't help but stare at his backside.

"I won't hurt you," he said again. "If it hurts, I'll stop."

"You won't have to stop," Bellatrix insisted. She knew it usually tore and ached a bit the first time; she'd heard apocryphal tales from other girls and from the Hogwarts hospital matron. But she wasn't about to let a little pain get between her lord and her body. Voldemort was stalking toward the bed now, and he commanded her,

"Lie down."

She did, turning at once and putting her head on the pillows in the centre of the bed. She folded her hands over her stomach and knew she was tense and stiff. Her breath quickened when Voldemort crawled up onto the bed and sat beside her. His hands pulled her thighs apart a little, and the pads of his fingers started to massage the place where Bellatrix could bring herself to climax. His thumb started to work circles on her nub, and Bellatrix felt herself flush wet at once. Her hands flew from her stomach to the blankets, and she shut her eyes as Voldemort said quietly,

"I was your age, my first time. Eighteen. She was a girl who worked at the shop next door. There was only time with her; I couldn't be bothered with a second. Will there be a second time with you, Bellatrix? I wonder. And what would that mean?"

"I don't know, My Lord," Bellatrix whispered. She gasped when she felt his fingers twist into her, stretching and thrusting a little.

"Have you cast a contraceptive charm?" he asked, and she nodded desperately. Voldemort's breath was right beside her then, and when Bellatrix opened her eyes, he'd pulled his hand from her and arranged himself above her. He shook his head a little and admitted, "I can't… I can't stave it off. I can't wait to do it. Next time I'll go more slowly."

Next time. Bellatrix tried to answer him, to say something of use, but then he'd parted her legs further and there was the press of something wide and firm against her entrance. He bent to kiss her lips, and then he pushed into her.

It did hurt. It seared like fire for a moment, and Bellatrix whimpered helplessly against the Dark Lord's mouth. Her hands went to his back, her palms feeling the warmth of his skin and taking comfort. He started to move within her, and a grunt transferred from his mouth to hers.

Soon enough it wasn't hurting. It felt good. Smooth motions, in and out, in and out. Kisses on her neck, a hand cupping one breast. He was all over her, inside of her. He was warm and large and _him_ , and Bellatrix suddenly lost herself to it all. She was clenching around him, her ears ringing as she saw spots, and Voldemort hissed into her ear,

"Good girl. Yes. Come for me, Bella."

She drove her head back against the pillow, for his movements became more insistent until he squeezed her breast roughly and smashed his mouth against hers. Then he groaned like a feral animal, wrenching himself up, supported by his hands. His face twisted as if he were in pain, and he panted a few times before whispering something unintelligible. Bellatrix could feel his seed leaking out of her then, and she stared up at him as he started to go soft inside of her.

His face got quite serious all of a sudden, and he slipped out of her and made his way off the bed and into the bathroom. Bellatrix heard the sink running, and she snatched her wand from the table beside the bed. She aimed it at the wet spot on the blanket and then between her legs, siphoning up all the evidence of what they'd done. Voldemort came out of the bathroom, soft now and seemingly unashamed to be seen that way. He went to his wardrobe and pulled out a pair of soft black pyjama trousers. He yanked them on and then grabbed a black velvet robe that was hanging up. He tossed it onto the bed and informed Bellatrix,

"You can put this on if you'd like. You're staying here tonight."

* * *

 **Author's Note: Whew! So they finally did… that! And Voldemort's starting to get his magic back! What happens when it all comes back and they return to "the real world"? Duh duh duhhhh… I know I've updated three times in one day, so a huge massive mega ultra thank you to those who have reviewed anyway! :)**


	6. Chapter 6

"You don't have to sleep so you're falling off the bed, you know." Voldemort eyed the way Bellatrix had slid right to the edge of his bed. Why he was letting her stay, he still didn't know. It felt awkward, he supposed, to boot her out of his room just after taking her virginity… especially since she'd only be going across the hall.

She smelled nice, he noticed. She smelled vaguely of roses, of the sea and flowers dancing together on a breath. Her hair was very pretty sprawled across the pillow, tight black curls in a halo around her head. When she turned to face him, her features were at once hard and delicate. Her eyes were so wide it seemed impossible. Suddenly Voldemort wanted her again, and he found himself swallowing heavily as all the lust he bore her sank into his veins.

"On second thought, perhaps you ought to spend the night back in your own room," he mused. "You may take the robe, if you wish."

"Of course, My Lord. Thank you." Bellatrix flew out of the bed as though it were on fire, and she snatched her clothes off the trunk at the foot of the bed. She stood there for a moment, the gentle curve of her breasts peeking out from beneath his robe and making his cock twitch a little. She needed to leave. Now.

"Goodnight," Voldemort barked, a little too harshly. Bellatrix opened her mouth to answer, but she was interrupted by the sound of tapping on the bedroom window. Voldemort looked up to see his boreal owl, Veles, pecking at the windowpane. Voldemort pulled himself from his bed and unlocked the window, saying firmly over his shoulder, "Goodnight, Bellatrix."

"Goodnight, Master," she replied meekly, and as Voldemort let Veles inside, Bellatrix's feet pattered on the tile floor. Veles had gone to Malfoy Manor the day before with a note demanding more detailed information, and today he came bearing a scroll sealed with the Malfoy family seal. Voldemort untied the scroll and whispered,

"Go and eat, Veles."

The owl flew back out the window, and Voldemort knew the bird would stay out at least until morning. He shut the window and then broke the seal on the scroll, unfurling it and recognising Abraxas Malfoy's writing at once.

 _My Lord,_

 _I do apologise if previous updates were of insufficient detail for you, Master. The truth is that there is very little to report. Yaxley was the only casualty in the battle, and he's healed up nicely with the help of an allied Healer who sealed his slashing wounds up. Yaxley is, to the best of my knowledge, back to full strength._

 _The battle went unreported in the Daily Prophet, and as far as we can tell, there is no public knowledge of or outcry over the battle at all. Efforts to more fully infiltrate the Ministry have stalled, because the targets for Imperiusing have been difficult to access. However, Augustus Rookwood asserts that his network of spies are wholly devoted and may be able to help us achieve better infiltration soon. My son Lucius is, as you know, monitoring conversations during the upcoming term at Hogwarts and will keep us apprised of progress or threats at the school._

 _I do hope, Master, that you are enjoying your respite. Please know that I would call you through my Mark at the very first sign of trouble, and that so far all is well. If there is anything else I can do to more effectively serve you in the meantime, I beg you to tell me, for I live entirely in your service._

 _Your humble slave, Abraxas Malfoy_

Voldemort made a move to Vanish the scroll, but as soon as he realised he couldn't do so, he scowled and swore under his breath. He balled the letter up in his hand, deciding that it didn't warrant a reply. All he could hope was that neither Malfoy nor any of the other Death Eaters would call him through the Dark Mark. If they did, he'd have no way of answering them. He lacked the ability right now to Apparate at will to another Mark. But that wasn't something his followers could know.

He wasn't just disabled right now. He was vulnerable. His current weakness could be the end of him if he wasn't very careful. His eyes flicked up to the doorway through which Bellatrix had just gone. He should take her wand, he thought. Even if he had no magic of his own, it was probably for the best that she be rightly and truly trapped. He could take her wand and tie her ankle to the bedpost with complicated knotwork and…

No.

She would never betray him. Everyone else on Earth could betray him, and Bellatrix would die screaming for her master. He thought back to the feel of her beneath him, to the way her body had hugged him and had been perfectly warm and soft. She was like a lantern in the night, despite her own deep darkness, and Voldemort liked her.

He had to admit that much to himself now. There was no denying it; he enjoyed her. He liked her company; she was amusing and had a good sense of humour and a solid intellect. She was quiet when she needed to be, and always deferential, but she was also a skilled conversationalist and a suitable companion through this mess.

He liked her body, the curves on her and the way she tasted when he kissed her. He liked the sound of her voice, and the feel of her in bed with him had been so tempting that he'd sent her away. Perhaps that had been a mistake, Voldemort contemplated. Then, realising that if he thought it was a mistake to go without her, it had clearly been the right thing to do.

Suddenly Voldemort's left arm seared, and he frowned deeply as he stared down at his bare arm. His Dark Mark had gone black, and he could feel a distant pulse in his brain. Usually he could sense immediately who was Summoning him and why, but tonight he just felt urgency.

"Bellatrix!" His voice echoed off the walls of his own bedroom as he shouted for her, and a moment later she threw the door open and stood there in his robe.

"Get dressed," he commanded her, flashing her his blackened Mark. "We're going to Malfoy Manor."

There, he reckoned, he could at least get answers about what was going on. He had no choice; he couldn't…

"Wait," Voldemort said quietly, and Bellatrix whirled over her shoulder.

"Master?"

Voldemort shut his eyes and shook his head. "They can think I've got purple skin and warts all over me if they want, but they can't know I'm lacking magic. I need you to go. I must stay here."

"Of course, My Lord," Bellatrix said breathlessly. "I can go and come back. I can tell them you sent me, that you're still -"

"Healing. Yes. Go." Voldemort nodded swiftly, gesturing for Bellatrix to go into the other bedroom. She did, and he could hear her rustling about in the room to get dressed. His stomach churned as he realised just how crippled he was by Dumbledore's curse. He couldn't even answer the call of his servants.

Bellatrix reappeared in the bedroom doorway after a few moments, looking mildly disheveled. She straightened her curls and asked,

"Master, if they ask after you… out of concern… what shall I say?"

"You must lie," Voldemort said smoothly. "Tell them I had a limb severed and that it's regrowing. Tell them you're assisting me in an undisclosed location until I'm back to my normal fighting strength. Then tell them to stop asking questions. Go, Bella; something is amiss and I need to know what it is."

"Yes, My Lord. I shall return as quickly as I can, Master." She Disapparated from where she stood, and a moment later, Voldemort knew that she would be standing outside the gates of Malfoy Manor.

He tried to pass the time with mundane tasks. He took a languorous, hot shower. He scrubbed at his teeth three times until they were practically iridescent. He used a lint brush to manually clean off all his clothes. He shined his dress shoes by hand. He was still sitting on the trunk at the end of his bed with a shoe in his hand when a little pop sounded beside him.

Bellatrix.

She was breathless and looked concerned, and Voldemort tossed the shoe aside as he rose and demanded,

"And? What was it?"

"It's Yaxley, My Lord," Bellatrix said. "He must have taken some sort of curse with a delay during the battle. He collapsed in Diagon Alley yesterday. They took him to St Mungo's. An informant there sent Malfoy an owl about it today. The Healers are suspicious; they've asked the Ministry to enquire more deeply into the curse with which Yaxley's been stricken."

Voldemort huffed out a breath. "There's no stopping any of that, I'm afraid. The best we can do is to have our plant at St Mungo's Confound the Healers about it all."

"That's what I told Malfoy, My Lord," Bellatrix said sheepishly, and Voldemort cocked an eyebrow up, impressed. Bellatrix's cheeks went red, and she continued, "I told him he ought to have the Healers Confounded as well as the Ministry employees who might start investigating. I told him that the battle must stay a secret, that the movement isn't ready for open war just yet."

"You told him all that, did you?" Voldemort asked, taking a step closer to Bellatrix. She nodded, but she seemed unsure of herself as she admitted,

"I overstepped, I know. I apologise, Master."

"You did not overstep," he assured her, "and you were absolutely correct. Did anyone ask after me?"

Bellatrix adopted a more haughty stance and tipped her chin up. Her voice was tight and severe then as she said,

"The Dark Lord's right leg was severed in battle and destroyed. He is regrowing the limb through sheer power, with the aid of potions and spells. He can not be disturbed; he has suffered grave wounds for our cause and must be permitted to heal in peace."

Voldemort smirked. "Good girl. What a good little creature you are."

He took her face in his hands then, and he lowered his lips to her forehead as he noted,

"It's very late."

"So it is, Master," Bellatrix agreed, her breath shaking a bit.

"I want you naked in the bed in precisely one minute," Voldemort ordered her. Her contraceptive spell would still be good, he knew.

Five minutes later, he was buried to the hilt inside of her, rocking slowly from behind with his arm wrapped around her. She was moaning quietly, and Voldemort burrowed his nose into her rose-scented hair.

"Bella," he heard himself whisper, feeling the little twitch of her womanhood as she neared climax. He lowered his left hand and fiddled with her clit for a moment, pressing and pulsing his fingers until she went tight as a wire and snapped. Her body cinched around his cock, and Voldemort kissed her neck roughly as he groaned with pleasure. She felt so good, so tight and warm, and he knew he only had a moment himself. He pressed his lips to her jaw and murmured again,

"Good little creature. So good, so pretty and clever and… Bella…"

He was lavishing praise on her, he knew. Too much praise. But he couldn't bring himself to care. She had served him well for these last days of confinement. She had served him better than ever in going to Malfoy Manor. But it wasn't just about servitude. He liked her.

He felt his seed pump in spurts into her body, his cock flinching a few times as the hot satisfaction blazed through his veins. He slipped out of her and turned her around until he could kiss her, which he proceeded to do far more gently than he'd ever done.

Slow and easy, warm and soft… he let his lips press against hers a few times and then nibbled a bit at her lip. He shouldn't be this gentle with her, he thought distantly. She'd get ideas in her head about what all of this meant. But he couldn't stop kissing her, and he couldn't stop himself from rolling onto his back and cradling her close against him.

"Sleep here," he said finally, and Bellatrix whispered,

"I'd sleep on a rock if you willed it, Master."

"I hope you prefer this bed," he said dryly. She raised her eyes to him, staring up at him through a few stray curls. He pushed them aside so he could see her better, and she assured him,

"This bed is paradise, My Lord."

He opened his mouth and tried to say something useful. He tried to thank her for her service, for going to Malfoy Manor and representing him well. He tried to tell her that she'd done more in two months as a Death Eater than any of the rest of them had in years of servitude. He tried to tell her something, anything, but the only thing that came out was,

"Goodnight, Bella."

She bravely touched her lips to his sternum, her voice a pleasant buzz against his sternum as she replied,

"Goodnight, My Lord."

Voldemort shut his eyes then, trying to sink into the bed and just fall asleep. It was very much against his will that his fingers went to her hair, that he played with her curls until he slipped from consciousness. He did not mind at all the feeling of her fingers drifting around his chest, and indeed it was a comforting sensation. When he slept, it was a dreamless and restful sleep, and when he woke in the morning, she was still beside him on the bed.

He should have sent her away with a threat of death, Voldemort thought, not for the first time. But in the grey light of morning, as he studied Bellatrix's sleeping form, he was very glad indeed that he'd kept her here with him.

 **Author's Note: So, he thinks she's beautiful, funny, intelligent, loyal, and competent. Sounds like a recipe for disaster, no? Thank you in advance for any feedback; it's enormously appreciated!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: This chapter contains memories of Non-Con groping, for those such a thing might affect. Thanks for reading.**

' _Come on, Bella, love. It's just a game.'_

 _'Get her between the thighs, Nero; see what you find!'_

Bellatrix scowled at the sea as she bent to pick up a stone. She stared down at the pale grey rock, dragging sand across it with her thumb before tossing it into the air before her. She caught it with her wand, Levitating it and then magically hurling it out into the water. It hit with such velocity that the smack of the splash cut through the sound of crashing waves. Bellatrix bent to pick up another stone, unable to rid herself of the awful memories of what the boys had done to her.

He'd stirred up those memories - Lord Voldemort - though Bellatrix doubted he'd meant to do so. She hadn't thought often about the way the boys had knifed their fingers up her skirt, the way they'd pawed roughly at her breasts and put their lips to her neck. She felt dirty now, standing here on the cloudy beach with a thick jumper on. It was uncharacteristically cold today, and the wind felt good whipping Bellatrix's curls about. She tossed the next stone by hand, and it landed with a pathetic sort of plunk.

She glanced up toward the house and thought of her master. For the last three nights in a row, he'd taken her body. That had never once felt like a violation. It had felt good; it had felt vivid and correct. He'd given her explicit instruction in brewing a longer-lasting contraceptive potion, which she'd done with the supplies he had around the house. He'd gone into town whilst she'd been brewing, for they needed more food and he could act the part of a Muggle with ease, he'd said.

She shivered now on the beach as she thought of him in his black cardigan and white collared shirt, in his grey trousers that matched the silver threads through his hair. He'd certainly looked like a Muggle, and when he'd come back to the house with armloads of paper bags, he'd looked mundane. But he wasn't mundane. He was divine.

Bellatrix had dosed herself with the contraceptive potion just like he'd insisted she do, because he didn't want to take a chance on putting a bastard in her. That's what he'd said. And he wanted to keep taking her, because he liked it. Whether she was his mistress or his whore or something else entirely was of precisely no consequence to Bellatrix. She's slept in his bed twice now, and waking up beside him was bliss. She didn't care about titles or formality. She just cared about him, about the man who had power coursing through him even when his magic was gone.

 _CRACK!_

Bellatrix whirled round at the ripping, snapping sound behind her. She gasped when she saw Lord Voldemort appear out of thin air, his wand gripped tightly in one hand. Then he collapsed to his knees and started bleeding all over the wet sand, and Bellatrix fought not to scream.

" _Accio_ Dittany!" She aimed her wand up toward the house without thinking and cried out the spell, and she dashed barefoot across the sand to where her master was kneeling. There was blood pouring from his rib cage, where clothing and flesh were missing in horrid stripes. He'd Apparate down here, Bellatrix realised, and he'd Splinched himself badly. Half his torso was slashed with great missing bits that were gushing out blood, and Bellatrix descended to her knees at the same moment she caught the flying Dittany.

"Don't worry, Master," she mumbled, listening to his rickety, shallow breath. He collapsed further, onto his side, the blood staining the sand in terrible rivulets. She rotated him and saw that there were grains of sand all over his wounds, and he muttered through clenched teeth,

"Clean it out, Bellatrix."

"Of course, My Lord. _Scourgify_." Bellatrix aimed her wand all along the wounds, and the specks of sand Vanished along with all the old blood. Bellatrix's hands shook as she opened the bottle of Essence of Dittany. She began to drop it all over the wounds, and Voldemort's snake-like hiss of pain told her it was working. He reached for her thigh and squeezed hard, his eyes wrenched shut as he tipped his head back against the sand.

"It's closing up, Master," Bellatrix assured him, watching the flesh knit back together. The bleeding stopped, and soon enough his skin was smooth and right again. His shirt was still torn, so Bellatrix aimed her wand at it and said, " _Stolas_ _Reparo_."

The fibres of the dark green material started weaving themselves together again. Bellatrix siphoned up the blood from the beach, and she asked carefully,

"May I get you an Invigoration Draught or anything from the house, My Lord?"

"No… you've… you've done well. Thank you." Voldemort sat up very slowly, clutching at his rib cage as he pondered, "There's probably a good bit of bloody flesh in the library."

Bellatrix smiled meekly and shrugged. "My Lord, you Apparated."

"Sort of," he corrected her, his own smile quite crooked. Bellatrix gave him a meaningful look as she rose to her feet and extended a hand to him. He stood on his own, brushing sand from his clothes as she noted,

"Soon enough you'll be back with the others. Back to your full strength. Your magic is returning. Could there be any greater joy?"

"And you?" He stared down at her as he tucked his wand away, and Bellatrix frowned. Behind her, waves were beating the shore more vigorously; the tide was coming in. They'd have to ascend the wooden stairs soon enough.

"What about me, My Lord?" Bellatrix finally asked. Voldemort shifted on his feet and asked,

"Where will you go, once you're released from Cornwall?"

Bellatrix gulped. "I've a little flat in London."

"Have you?" He seemed surprised by that, but Bellatrix told him,

"As soon as I took the Dark Mark, My Lord, I moved out of my parents' house. The place is owned by the Mulciber family, and I rent it from them."

"Oh." Voldemort nodded and stared up at the house, a wistful little look coming over his face. She wondered what he was thinking then, but before she could get any sort of answer, he lowered his eyes to hers and whispered,

" _Legilimens_."

Bellatrix was shocked to feel the thud of him crashing into her mind, and all of a sudden memories where whirling before her. The endless parade of mental images finally stopped, and Bellatrix found herself whispering,

"Not that one. Please."

 _'Get your filthy hands off of me, Silas!' Bellatrix squirmed and reached for the wand Maximus Malfoy was holding. Silas Travers was too big, a whole head taller than her, and she was yanked back against the erection forming in his school trousers._

 _'Nobody ever told me your tits were so soft, Bellatrix,' he laughed, and she turned her head and snarled at him like an animal._

 _'Let me go or I'll see to it that you're walking around without a cock, Silas.'_

 _'What the blazes is going on here?' Rodolphus Lestrange walked into the Common Room, his Prefect badge more welcome now than ever. Suddenly Bellatrix was able to clamber off of Silas Travers, and she hissed at Rodolphus._

 _'They called it a game. Touching me and stealing my wand.'_

 _'Give it back to her. Now,' Rodolphus commanded. Malfoy lowered the wand and held it out to Bellatrix, looking so drunk she thought he might fall over. Rodolphus sneered at his Quidditch teammates and shook his head. 'Go to bed, all of you. Bella, you stay.'_

 _She did, and once the boys had mumbled half-hearted apologies and made their way to the boys' dormitories, she turned to Rodolphus._

 _'Thanks,' she said simply, and he shrugged._

 _'Do you need to go to the Infirmary?'_

 _'No,' Bellatrix said firmly. She straightened her uniform, yanking at the tie they'd loosened. 'No. I'm fine.'_

 _She didn't feel fine, but she wouldn't tell Rodolphus or anybody else that information. She hardened her face and tipped her chin up and said again,_

 _'Thanks. Goodnight.'_

 _'Night, Bella.' Rodolphus sounded mournful as he watched her go to the girls' dormitory. Bellatrix walked on shaking legs, and it wasn't until she had her face buried in the pillow on her bed that she finally let the tears worm their way from her eyes._

Lord Voldemort pulled out of Bellatrix's head, and she stared up at him where they stood on the beach.

"You Legilimency is back, then," she noted. He didn't seem to care about whether his Legilimency was back. He parted his lips and then shut them again, shivering a little where he stood in the cold in his thin robes. Or maybe he was shaking with anger. Bellatrix couldn't tell.

"You consented with me," he said, and he seemed to be assuring himself far more that informing her. She nodded vehemently.

"Yes, My Lord. I consented with you. I like very much when you touch me. When you kiss me. It's not anything like -"

"Shall I kiss you now?" His voice was flinty, but Bellatrix just wrapped her jumper more tightly about herself and nodded.

"Yes, please."

"All right." Voldemort took her face in his hands, his wand pressing lengthwise against her cheek as he lowered his lips to hers. Bellatrix was expecting something deep and passionate, like nearly all his kisses had been, but that wasn't what happened. His lips brushed softly against hers, and then he finally pressed his mouth to hers as he sighed a little. He pulled away and glanced out to the sea.

"Tide's coming in. We should walk up."

"Yes, Master," Bellatrix agreed. She watched his throat bob, and he mused,

"When I feel confident leaving here, you'll go to your little flat in London. I shall require the address."

Bellatrix's stomach fluttered a bit. "Of course, My Lord."

He turned then, without another word, and he made his way to the many wooden stairs ascending the cliff up to the house.

 **Author's Note: So his magic is really, really coming back now. The curse is wearing off. How much longer until they leave Cornwall? And once they do, now that they very evidently have real feelings for each other, how will their interactions among the others be different? THANK YOU in advance for any feedback!**


	8. Chapter 8

" _Incendio_ ," Lord Voldemort incanted, aiming his wand at the fireplace in his bedroom. At once, flames materialised upon the grate, and Voldemort swallowed hard as he murmured, " _Engorgio… Evanesco_."

The fire grew and then Vanished at the Dark Lord's command. He was ready, he realised. He was ready to return to public life as the fearsome Lord Voldemort. He was ready to be in the presence of his Death Eaters again, to reign above and around those who feared his power. He was ready for live again.

Then he stared out through his open door to the closed one that led to Bellatrix's bedroom, and he thought he would miss this. All of this. This place, this little life he'd made with her. It had been two weeks in total that they'd been here now. He was fond of her. He couldn't deny himself that reality. But he had another life, a life so much bigger than Bellatrix Black.

" _Orchideous_ ," he whispered, and a bouquet of purple and red flowers was Conjured in the air before him. It floated downward and he caught it, stalking in his grey pyjama trousers through his room and out into the corridor. It was two in the morning. He could hear the waves outside, the other heavy silence that surrounded the house at night. He could hear nothing from Bellatrix's room, and he knew that she was sleeping.

He should knock, he thought. It was the polite thing to do, and though he'd never much cared about being polite, the concept did affect him when it came to Bellatrix. He raised his fist to the door and prepared to knock, but then he lowered his fingers to the doorknob and turned.

She flew to sit up when he pushed the creaky door open, and when she reached for her wand, he muttered,

"It's only me."

"Master," she breathed, for he'd never come into her room at night before. She started to make her way from the bed, doubtlessly so that she could dip into a curtsy and worship him. But Voldemort gestured for her to lie back down, and he set his Conjured flowers on the table beside her bed. He sat on the edge and told her flatly,

"I made those."

"They're beautiful, My Lord." Bellatrix reached to touch gently at the petals, flashing him a little smile. Voldemort huffed and informed her,

"That I can now Conjure flowers means I am ready. My magic has returned. I can go back to life as it was now."

Bellatrix's face darkened for a half second, and she kept on delicately touching the flowers.

"How very pleased I am, Master," she said, though she didn't sound pleased at all.

"Bellatrix." Voldemort reached for the hand she was using to stroke the petals, and he snared his fingers through hers. He waited for her to find his eyes, and he told her, "You have become mine more thoroughly than when I put your Dark Mark upon you. These last few weeks, you have become more indelibly, more deeply mine. Do you deny it?"

"I can't deny it," Bellatrix said, sitting up, "and I would never wish to do so. I am… I have… I would never wish for you to have gone without your magic, My Lord, but I must confess that these last weeks have been the most pleasant in all my life."

"Then I shall not return to life as it was, after all," Voldemort said quietly, "but rather a life slightly altered. Augmented by your presence. Tell me you consent to it, to my visiting your flat or summoning you here. Tell me it is what you want."

Bellatrix's lips parted a bit. "My Lord, it does not matter what I want. All that matters is what you want."

He took her face in his hands and pressed his lips to hers, and he whispered against her mouth,

"Tell me you don't want any of this to stop."

"I don't want it to stop," she confessed then, her fingers trailing down his bare chest. She started to climb atop his lap then, slithering around him as he shoved his flannel trousers down. She wore nothing beneath her knee-length nightgown, he could tell now. She started to rub herself onto him, and he felt himself harden a bit at the slick, warm feel of her.

"I don't want it to stop," she said again, tipping her head back a little. Voldemort seized the opportunity to kiss her there, to latch his mouth onto her neck. He wanted to bruise her up. If tomorrow they would be at Malfoy Manor, then Bellatrix Black would be there with purple marks from her lord all over her flesh.

He suckled and bit, kissing the places he abused as Bellatrix's voice filled the bedroom. Her hands tangled in his short, greying hair, and she started to pump her body more insistently against his. Voldemort reached between them to line everything up, and when she sank onto his cock, he hissed against her throat. It felt so delicious for her to surround him, for him to be sheathed within her. It was tight and smooth, hot and twitching. He liked it. He liked her, quite a lot indeed.

"Ahh!" She was really in pain now, he could tell. He'd sucked far too hard on one spot, and as he pulled away, he could see a ferocious, speckled purple and red spot forming.

"Sorry," he mumbled disingenuously, thinking perhaps he'd marked her up enough. Bellatrix was swaying on him, but it wasn't what he wanted. He always got what he wanted from her. He took her jaw in his hands and ordered her, "Get on your hands and knees."

"Yes, Master," she panted, and she scrambled off of him as she arranged herself on the bed. Voldemort just studied her for a long moment. He'd never taken her like this, with her womanhood and backside so exposed. She was thin, but she had curve to her, too. Voldemort dragged his fingers down Bellatrix's ribs and over her waist, then cupped her backside and squeezed. She moaned a little, and he realised she liked the feel of him being a bit rough.

He pulled his hand back and hesitated for a half second, then spanked her hard. Bellatrix collapsed from her hands to her elbows and let out a muffled cry into the pillow. Voldemort spanked the same spot, rubbing at the flesh that went hot and pink. Then, unable to wait any longer, he touched his tip to her entrance and plunged into her, pumping himself like a mechanical piston.

He must have been grinding her just so, touching just the right spot with every thrust, because soon enough she was keening wildly against the pillow. She slapped her hand onto the mattress and exclaimed,

"Ahh! Yes!"

Then he felt her clenching round his member, and he paused to watch the contractions around his shaft. That felt like a profoundly dirty thing to do, and it drove him straight over the edge. It was his turn to climax then, his seed filling her and leaking straight back out in its bounty. He groaned and held onto her waist, pushing his hips forward a few more times to soak up the pleasure.

Somehow he made it onto his back with her curled up beside him. He reached for his wand and siphoned up the mess he'd made inside of her, and he set his wand down as he pulled her closer.

"I don't want it to stop," Bellatrix whispered for the third time. Voldemort kissed her forehead, thinking of life among his Death Eaters with Bellatrix on the side.

"It won't stop," he assured her, staring at the ceiling. "It won't stop because I do not wish to stop, and I get what I want. From you and from everyone else."

"Will you stay?" She sounded very uncertain then, and suddenly Voldemort was afraid of what it might mean if he did stay. In her room, in the guest room of his own house? What did any of this mean, anyway? Did it matter?

"I'll stay," he told her, using powerful wandless magic to pull the blankets up around them. He'd stay because he wanted to stay, and Lord Voldemort always got what he wanted.


	9. Chapter 9

"Do try not to look so sour, Bellatrix. This is a day of celebration; the Dark Lord has returned." Voldemort gave Bellatrix a heavy look as they sauntered through the gardens outside Malfoy Manor. She tipped her chin up and squared her jaw.

"I apologise, Master. I shall demonstrate my glee more effectively," Bellatrix promised. She watched as he gave her a sceptical look, and he stopped his feet on the lawn. He sniffed a little and glanced around at the rose bushes.

"Bellatrix," he said carefully, "There are many things, perhaps, for which I would be remiss not to thank you."

"Master." Bellatrix felt her cheeks go hot, and she shook her head. "You needn't -"

"I shall do as I please," he said sharply, "and I am going to thank you. I command that you listen now. Are you listening, Miss Black?"

"I am listening, My Lord," Bellatrix said shakily, watching her master lick his bottom lip and cross his arms over his chest.

"You saved my hide, literally and figuratively, on that beach, Bella. You provided more than ample companionship during those days of isolation. You cooked. You kept my spirits up, so to speak. You… you…"

His throat bobbed, and he stared at the grass for a moment. Bellatrix felt awkward then, crushed beneath the weight of his praise. Bellatrix tucked her hair behind her ears as the wind picked up a little, and she whispered,

"Perhaps we should go inside."

"Thank you, Bellatrix," Voldemort said, raising his eyes until they met hers. He nodded once, quite crisply, and he said again, "Thank you."

Then he turned and walked quickly up to the door, and now Bellatrix could follow him with a real smile on her face. She trotted to keep up with him, watching the enormous doors of the manor swing open slowly at his wandless command. His magic was truly back, she pondered. He'd come here by Side-Along Apparition performed by Bellatrix, just in case. But now he was using his bare hand to shove open a doorway, and Bellatrix knew they'd left Cornwall at the right time.

They were all waiting inside. When Bellatrix followed Lord Voldemort up the stairs and down the corridor, they walked in silence, but she could hear murmurs coming from the large dining room. When they walked into the meeting space, a few people seemed curious that Bellatrix was with the Dark Lord, but most people knew she'd been with him. When she'd come on his behalf to Malfoy Manor, she'd informed them all of his state, of his need for peace.

But he was back now.

Everyone stood when Lord Voldemort entered the room, and Abraxas Malfoy said joyfully,

"My Lord! How magnificent to see you again."

"Indeed, Master," said Yaxley meekly. Voldemort nodded once, finding his spot at the head of the table, gesturing for Bellatrix to sit beside him. He sat, and nodded for everyone else to do the same. Then he turned his attention to Yaxley and said simply,

"You're looking well."

"Master." Yaxley bowed his head. "I apologise for any minor scandal my collapse created. I am well now, and the Healers and Ministry officials -"

"I have been briefed on the matter and am very well aware of what is happening," Voldemort said. He rolled his head as if to crack his neck, and he turned his face to Travers. "Your son assaults witches."

Bellatrix felt her eyes go round. She watched Travers' plump face go beet red, and the others shifted uncomfortably. Travers opened his mouth to speak, but Voldemort snapped,

"Do not dare say what you're thinking, Travers. I know your son's behaviour better than you do. Silas got drunk and assaulted a witch. Keep him out of my presence and away from any official happenings with the movement. If I catch sight of him, it will mean a Cruciatus Curse. Convey my displeasure and my warning to him. I will be obeyed in this matter. Understood?"

Travers nodded desperately and dabbed a handkerchief at his sweaty neck. "My Lord. I am more… more sorry than I can say if my son has -"

"Be silent," Voldemort hissed. He turned his face to Abraxas Malfoy and informed him, "Your nephew Maximus was involved in the same incident. Keep those boys out of our organisation. Keep them in line, or I swear that their screams will echo through this manor. Have I made myself quite clear?"

Abraxas Malfoy drained white. "Perfectly clear, Master."

Voldemort drummed his fingers on the table and looked around. Bellatrix's heart was thudding in her chest, a war drum beaten by her lord and master. Voldemort flicked his eyes from Mulciber to the Lestrange brothers, and Bellatrix watched his eyes settle on Rodolphus Lestrange, the boy who had joined the ranks of the Death Eaters the same time Bellatrix had done. The boy who had called off the dogs the night of the awful incident.

"Lestrange," Voldemort said, and suddenly Bellatrix knew that he was in Rodolphus' head. She could tell; she knew the look in his eye when he was conducting Legilimency. Rodolphus squirmed in his seat, his teeth visibly clenched. Everyone else seemed quite curious, but Voldemort just sniffed lightly and then seemed to release Rodolphus from his invisible bindings. He folded his hands on the table and said, "Malfoy, see to it that Rodolphus Lestrange is granted a fine position at the Ministry. He has earned it twice over."

"Thank you, My Lord," Rodolphus whispered, lowering his gaze. His eyes flicked up after a moment, settling on Bellatrix, and he smiled just a little.

"I shall see to that straight away, My Lord," Bellatrix heard Abraxas Malfoy say. Voldemort rose, and everyone else followed suit.

"Continue recruiting. Continue our games of espionage. Continue to get the Ministry in our hold," Voldemort said sharply. "We will meet again soon. Dismissed."

Everyone started to filter out then. Bellatrix held back, but when she saw that Voldemort seemed engrossed in a conversation with Yaxley, she left. She caught up with Rodolphus Lestrange in the corridor, and as they walked down the stairs, she said quietly,

"I didn't mean for that incident to ever come up again. Just the same, I wanted to thank you for what you did."

"I didn't do nearly enough," Rodolphus said, shaking his head. He gave Bellatrix a serious look and insisted, "I ought to have seen to it that they were all expelled, or at least had fifty points taken apiece. I didn't have the courage to lose us the House Cup, or to bring such shame to Slytherin. I was also… I was afraid about retribution against you."

"He knows that," Bellatrix insisted. "He knows you did right by me, and it matters. I promise."

"Is he quite well now?" Rodolphus asked as they followed the stream of Death Eaters out to the Apparition Point. Bellatrix glanced behind her, knowing that Voldemort was inside the manor and feeling the pang of separation from him for the first time in weeks. She nodded.

"He's fine now. Good seeing you, Rodolphus."

"And you," he nodded, whirling to his right and disappearing the instant he could.

Hours later, Bellatrix sat in her flat in Notting Hill, staring out the window at the Muggle cars below. She had a mug of hot tea gone cold in her hands, and she set it down on the little table before her. It was one in the morning, and she ought to be sleeping, but she couldn't. Not here, alone, away from the sea and away from him.

It started to rain outside, just a little drizzle at first and then sheets of torrential downpour slashing through the night. One of the nearby street lamps flickered for a moment, making eerie shadows in the rain. Bellatrix frowned when she saw a dark figure moving down the sidewalk, for this little side street was usually deserted at this hour. She sighed and went into her tiny kitchen, dumping out her mug of ruined tea and resolving to start fresh.

She jolted a little at the sound of a gentle knock on the door that led from the flat to the corridor, and she pulled out her wand. She stood on her tiptoes and peered through the peephole in the door, seeing a tall figure in a dark hooded cloak.

Her breath quickened at once as she recognised the shape of his jaw and chin, and then she couldn't open the door quickly enough. Lord Voldemort pulled his sodden hood down the moment Bellatrix flung open the door, and he murmured,

"Sorry to bother you at this hour. May I come in?"

 **Author's Note:** **Voldemort showing up to Bellatrix's flat in the middle of the night in the rain? This can only mean one thing, right? Riiiiight?**


	10. Chapter 10

"He is in love with you," Voldemort said, shutting the door behind him and peeling off his rain-soaked cloak. He ignored Bellatrix's confused look as he hung up his cloak, and he sniffed a bit. "Rodolphus Lestrange. He's in love with you."

"My Lord, I do not mean to contradict you," Bellatrix said, backing up a little through her corridor, "but he doesn't know me well enough to be in love with me. A crush, perhaps, but…"

"Well. He thinks he's in love with you." Voldemort glared at Bellatrix and brushed water from his sleeves. Outside, the rain fell harder than ever, and he asked her, "Have you got tea?"

"I was just making some," Bellatrix said with a little smile. He followed her into the kitchen and watch as she filled a kettle with water that she boiled with her wand. She popped two tea bags into mugs and filled them with the hot water, and she murmured a spell to make the tea brew more quickly. She turned over her shoulder and asked, "Milk or sugar, Master?"

"No." He stepped into the kitchen and picked up one of the mugs, sipping at the searing liquid and relishing the way it almost burned his throat. It was a cold rain falling outside, and he'd walked the last few blocks here.

"You found the place all right, then?" Bellatrix asked awkwardly. Voldemort threw up an eyebrow.

"Obviously. I'm here, aren't I?"

There was quiet then for a very long moment, the kind of comfortable quiet they'd enjoyed for long stretches in Cornwall. Voldemort thought back to the meeting earlier in the day, to the feeling of being in charge again. He'd liked it - quite a lot, actually - but he'd missed the solitude just a little. He was not an overtly social man.

"I feel badly that a stupid little incident has become such a hullabaloo." Bellatrix sipped at her tea, and Voldemort set his down on her counter.

"Don't do that," he muttered. Bellatrix looked confused, and he specified, "Do not pretend it wasn't what it was - a gang of drunken boys groping you whilst you tried to fight back for your wand. It was…"

He stopped then, because he could feel his magic crackling around him in his anger. He tried to swallow and encountered a thick lump in his throat.

"If their fathers weren't Death Eaters, I'd kill them," he said simply, meeting Bellatrix's eyes in the dark kitchen. She nodded, and then they just stared at one another as the rain lashed the window. Voldemort finally broke his gaze from hers so he could look around at her little flat. It was clean and neat with elegant, dark furnishings, but it was cramped. There was a small bedroom at the end of the corridor, he could see. The kitchen was in the middle, with a table that only sat two. The bathroom was squeezed into the corridor, and the overcrowded parlour was at the other end. It was a third-floor unit, a long walk up winding, tight stairs, and Voldemort found himself asking her,

"Why do you live here?"

She scoffed a little laugh and stared down into her tea. "Remember, My Lord, how we discussed my mother? It's quite difficult to live with her, if I'm honest. But, then, I imagine it's also quite difficult to live with me."

"No, it isn't." Voldemort swigged down the last of his tea in two scalding gulps, wandlessly Scouring the mug and Banishing it to the sink. He crossed his arms and shook his head as he told Bellatrix, "I know from experience what it is to live with you. It is not difficult."

"Oh." She sounded awed then, a strange look coming over her eyes. She drummed her fingers on her mug and asked, "Master, did you need something of me tonight?"

"Yes." He hadn't come here for tea. He'd come here because he'd been back in Cornwall, staring at the ceiling, knowing that her bedroom was empty and feeling genuinely lonely for the first time in his memory. He stepped up to Bellatrix and cupped one of her breasts through her thin black cotton nightgown. She gasped, and he caught her mouth up in a quiet little kiss.

"I got used to you," he informed her, and Bellatrix shut her eyes as he squeezed her soft, small breast a bit. "Let's go to your bedroom."

"All right…" Bellatrix looked and sounded dizzy and breathless. Voldemort found himself lacing his fingers through hers and pulling her out of her kitchen, down the corridor to her little bedroom. The bed, a smallish double with a poufy grey comforter, was half-made. The blankets had been pulled up in the general direction of the floppy pillows, but nothing was tightly done. Bellatrix looked embarrassed all of a sudden, especially when her eyes trained on the brassiere that was dangling over the corner of the dresser. She snatched at the bra and stuffed it into a drawer, and she whispered,

"I'm sorry, My Lord."

"No." He shook his head a little and kissed her, backing her up against the wallpaper and edging up the hem of her casual nightgown. There was much he wanted to tell her, much that had occurred to him as he had stared at the ceiling in Cornwall. Somehow he boiled up the courage inside of him enough to say, "I enjoy spending time with you, and stray clothing or a rumpled bed is not going to ruin that for me."

"My Lord…" Bellatrix's nipples went visibly hard in the darkness of the bedroom, and Voldemort dragged his thumbs over them through the cotton of her nightgown. She drove her head back against the wall, her quick pulse visible on her neck as she whispered frantically, "My Lord. My Lord…"

"Yes?" He smirked a bit, teasing her, bending to brush his lips over the bruises he'd left on her throat the night before. He tasted the flesh there, peeking his tongue out enough to get the warm flavour of her. Suddenly he wanted to taste something different, and he said against her skin, "Up on the bed, Bella."

"Yes, Master." She was holding his biceps, but she let go reluctantly as she passed by him and took the two steps to the edge of her bed. It creaked a bit when she pulled herself up onto it, revealing its age and quality. Bellatrix arranged herself on the pillows, staring out the window at the rain.

"You can't be nervous with me anymore," Voldemort said disbelievingly, rolling up his shirt sleeves and kicking off his shoes. He unbuttoned his trousers and pulled himself out, crawling up onto the bed with Bellatrix. She kept her eyes locked on the window, and she said softly,

"My Lord, I'm only afraid that I won't please you."

"I'm going to put my mouth between your legs," he informed her, tipping his head and cocking up an eyebrow. "You're not the one doing the pleasing. Not this time. Well… that's not true, strictly speaking. It will please me to taste you."

Bellatrix's eyes went round as saucers, and she opened her mouth to say something, but Voldemort shushed her and instructed her,

"You just lie there. That's all you do. Stare at the rain if you like."

He was growing hard, but he ignored his cock in favour of pulling Bellatrix's knickers down over her thighs and knees. He took his time sliding them down her calves, and when they were around her ankles, he stared up at her and saw her chest heaving and her eyes shut. Voldemort felt a surge of want as he dragged his thumb around the inside of her ankle, and when he pulled the knickers off, he noticed they felt smooth and soft. He set them aside and slid up between her legs, pushing up her nightgown and letting his hands massage her hips and thighs.

"My Lord," he heard her whisper, and he replied with a little grunt of need. He put his lips to the inside of her knee and dragged them up her thigh, mirroring the action on the other side with his hand.

She tasted like metal, like heavy womanhood. He lapped her up, lathing his tongue in long strokes all along her folds. Bellatrix whined above him, and suddenly her hands were in his hair. Outside, the first thunderclap of the night sounded, which seemed appropriate. She wasn't looking at the rain, Voldemort knew then. She was looking down at him, and that thought made his cock twitch.

He kept licking, slowly and steadily, knowing that he'd drive her to insanity by doing the same thing over and over again. All he altered was to deepen the strokes of his tongue, and he tasted a flush of new wetness from her as she grew more and more aroused.

"Bellatrix," he whispered against her, and she cried out as if she were in pain. Her hands went to the shoulders of his shirt, squeezing for dear life. Voldemort sucked one of her lips into his mouth, then the other, and then he focused on her nub. He flicked his tongue around it, sucked gently on it, and then flattened his tongue over it.

He was so hard it hurt, and he started to pulse his hips against the blanket in a desperate attempt to satisfy himself. He moaned against her, and the vibration of his voice seemed to be the straw that broke the camel's back. Bellatrix's back was arching. She was fisting the blanket and driving her head back against the pillow. She was coming, clenching around his lips as he tried to drink up her climax. She was repeating two sacred words over and over again…

My Lord. My Lord.

He finally pulled up, unable to control himself any longer. He hadn't pulled his trousers all the way down, and he knew he had mere seconds before he finished. So he wrenched Bellatrix's nightgown up and revealed her flat, milky stomach. He stroked at his cock as she recovered, and her eyes marveled at the sight of him hovering above her. Then everything tightened and tightened and wound up and snapped.

Voldemort growled a little as his eyes rolled back and his seed leaped from his cock. He watched it land in obscene puddles all over Bellatrix's smooth stomach, and through the ringing in his ears, he heard himself whisper,

"Oh, Bella."

A few minutes later, he'd siphoned up his seed and had Scoured his mouth so that he could kiss her. He did that, lying beside her in her small and simple bed, his mouth crushing hers as he tried to breathe her in.

She was like a drug that he craved all the time now, but he didn't care. She was a distraction, but he didn't care. She was just a little thing - so very young - but he didn't care. She was Bellatrix, and he liked her here just as well as he'd liked her in Cornwall.

"I'm going to have my revenge on Dumbledore," Voldemort said against Bellatrix's mouth. "The first Hogsmeade trip of the year, I'm going to attack a student. A Mudblood. And you're coming with me."

"I am?" Bellatrix gasped, and he nodded as he touched his lips to her forehead. He smirked at her.

"His name is Morton Mills, and we're going to leave him without any limbs outside the school grounds. Let Dumbledore see that the curses I case stain and wound more than anything he could ever bring himself to do."

Bellatrix studied Voldemort's face so closely that for a moment, he was a little nervous about what she'd say. It didn't matter what she'd say; his orders were final. But she finally touched her forehead to his and whispered,

"I adore you, My Lord. Every single part of you. And I look forward to serving you again."

"I'm staying here," Voldemort said simply, looking around the humble little bedroom. He gulped, realising he did not want to go back home alone just now. He huffed a sigh and told her, "Tomorrow night, I want you in Cornwall."

"Yes, My Lord," Bellatrix said, and he kissed her hair as he murmured,

"Goodnight, Bella."


	11. Chapter 11

Bellatrix was confused. She'd been Summoned through her Dark Mark, and when she'd answered the call, she'd found herself outside Lord Voldemort's stately home in Cornwall. There was a meeting at Malfoy Manor scheduled to begin in a half hour's time, so she was baffled as to why he'd brought her here.

Over the last week, they'd spent two nights together - the one in her flat and another here in Cornwall. But she hadn't seen him in five days, for she'd been in Scotland torturing an accomplice of Dumbledore's. Now she stood outside Voldemort's home, and as she raised her hand to knock, the door swung open, and he stood there looking drawn and tired.

"We have a serious problem," he said, stepping outside onto the lawn. Bellatrix backed up and blinked, and before she could ask what the matter was, Voldemort pulled his wand out and shrugged. "My magic is gone again. Gone. Entirely gone."

Bellatrix gasped. "Master… how can that be? You called me through my Mark; I -"

"Calling you through your Mark is the only magic I have been able to perform in the last forty-eight hours," he said sharply, "and I'm not entirely certain why that worked when nothing else will. It doesn't matter. It seems there was more to Dumbledore's curse than I gave him credit for. I can't afford these ebbs and flows. There is a meeting at the Manor in a half hour, and I mean to be there."

Bellatrix nodded. "No one can know."

"No one can know," he agreed. "I shall get to the bottom of this; I shall read every book in England until I find a permanent cure for what Dumbledore did to me. But in the interim, Bella… I require your assistance."

"Anything, My Lord," she breathed. "Anything at all."

He shifted on his feet and cleared his throat. "I will need you to take me to Malfoy Manor, obviously. I'll then set everyone to tasks that will keep them occupied for a few weeks. And then we're going to lie. We're going to say I'm going on a covert mission to the Continent and that you're coming with me."

"But we'll be here," Bellatrix guessed, and Voldemort nodded once.

"I need you to help me get my magic back, Bellatrix. I can be their general for only so long; they know me as a soldier leading a pack. I must be able to fight, to impress with my power. I need my magic to flow securely in my veins."

"We'll read every book in England," she promised him, echoing his words from earlier. Voldemort looked very irritated then, picking at a leaf on the vine growing alongside his doorway.

"Bloody Albus Dumbledore," he muttered. "Awful old fool. I will kill him myself."

"I await that day," Bellatrix said quietly. "My Lord, that day will be bliss."

"We need to go," he said shortly. "After the meeting, you'll bring me back here and then you can go to your flat and pack up belongings. I suppose we could stay in London, but it's more comfortable here."

"We shall stay wherever you like, Master," Bellatrix told him firmly, and he dragged the pad of his thumb over his lip as he informed her,

"I must tell you that your discretion and loyalty are invaluable to me just now. I… need you, Bellatrix, and I know that I can rely on you."

"Of course you can, My Lord." Bellatrix reached up for his face, noticing the little bit of scruff that had grown out over the last few days. He covered her hand with his and said again,

"We need to go."

Bellatrix nodded, squeezed her fingers around his, and Disapparated. When they came to, they were outside the Apparition Point at Malfoy Manor, and Voldemort swayed a little where he stood. He gagged quietly, and Bellatrix surreptitiously aimed her wand at him and cast a nonverbal anti-nausea charm.

"Thank you," he whispered, touching his fingertips to his forehead. He steadied himself and held his wand at the ready as if he possessed the ability to battle an unseen enemy. He strode through the gates and up to the doors, and he murmured to Bellatrix, "Open them."

She said nothing; she just flicked her wand at the enormous brass handles and thought, _Abroportus_. The mighty doors swung open, and once there was enough space to pass through, Bellatrix followed Voldemort inside. He pattered quickly up the steps and strode like a wraith down the corridor toward the dining room. This time, they were the first ones present except for Abraxas Malfoy, who bowed low and asked,

"My Lord… Miss Black. Is there any refreshment I might get you?"

"This meeting will be efficient, Malfoy. No need for drinks. Sit down." Voldemort walked quickly into the dining room and sat, tucking his wand away and staring silently at the wood grain on the table. Bellatrix sat in silence beside him, and Malfoy sat a ways down. People started to arrive and filter in, but everyone seemed to pick up on the prescribed quiet in the space. Once every seat at the table was filled, Voldemort raised his eyes and said brusquely,

"I shall be leaving England for a covert mission on the Continent. Miss Black will be accompanying me. I will not be available, even in the case of an emergency, until I return. Anyone who seeks further detail about my mission will be on the receiving end of a Cruciatus Curse. Am I well and truly understood?"

"Yes, Master," they murmured one by one, everyone looking a little afraid. Voldemort blinked and started going around the table.

"Rodolphus Lestrange. Work with Rookwood to establish better spy operations in the Department of Magical Games and Sports. You've just started there; I expect you to be useful."

"Yes, My Lord," Rodolphus nodded. Voldemort flicked his eyes over and said,

"Yaxley and Malfoy. I want those six Ministry officials Imperiused by the time I return. Use whatever help you must to achieve the goal."

"I vow it will be done, My Lord," Malfoy promised, and Voldemort nodded crisply.

"Mulciber. Nott. Avery. The first Hogsmeade trip of the school year is in two weeks' time. You are to intercept a student by the name of Morton Mills. He is a Mudblood Gryffindor, a seventh-year with aspirations of joining Dumbledore's little gang."

A low hiss went around the table, and Voldemort waited before he commanded,

"The three of you will kidnap Morton Mills on the Hogsmeade trip. You will sever and Vanish all four of his limbs and cauterise the stumps. You will leave him sobbing on Dumbledore's doorstep. Disguise yourselves but inform the boy that you are working at the behest of the Dark Lord. Am I understood?"

"Understood, Master," Avery nodded. "Your will shall be done."

Voldemort waited then, letting a pregnant silence fall over the room once more. He turned at last to Antonin Dolohov and said quietly,

"Arthur and Molly Weasley are allies of Dumbledore. They are expecting their first child in November, according to Rookwood's information. Track down the witch and kill the child."

Antonin Dolohov bowed his head and looked intimidated by the orders. Voldemort cleared his throat and said,

"Well. I think we all have quite a lot to occupy us for the time being, then. Questions? No? Good. Talk amongst yourselves to work out logistics. Bella, come."

He barked those last two words at her as though she were his dog. Bellatrix didn't want to appear overly familiar in front of the others, so she rose and hunched her shoulders as she scampered behind Voldemort like a mouse. She stayed three steps behind him all the way down the corridor and stairs, and even out through the gardens. Once they reached the Apparition Point, she stood up a little straighter and told him,

"None of them are the wiser, My Lord. I could tell."

"So could I. Give me your hand." Voldemort reached for her fingers, and Bellatrix Disapparated as quickly as she could in case someone was watching. They reappeared outside the house in Cornwall, and in their absence, a great wind had picked up. The trees beside the house were swaying a little, and in the distance, Bellatrix could see the waves on the grey sea crashing and curling. She hurried inside after Voldemort and asked him,

"Shall I cook dinner, Master?"

"Yes," he said simply. "I went for groceries at the Muggle shop earlier today. The kitchen's full."

He stayed in the parlour as she made her way into the kitchen. She rummaged about until she found the flour and salt and other ingredients she needed for a pie crust. She took out the minced lamb she found in the refrigerator, and soon enough she was using her wand to whip up Scotch pies. She poached some eggs to serve over them, along with baked beans in tomato sauce. She put two little pies on each plate and poured them some rich red wine, and she put it all on a tray. She carried the tray out to find Voldemort already sitting at the dining room table, and when she put the plate in front of him, he scoffed a little.

"I would have thought a girl like you would have grown up with a House-Elf to cook for you."

"I did," Bellatrix nodded. "I enjoy cooking."

"I'm famished," Voldemort admitted. "All I had earlier was a hunk of cheese. I was too enraged to eat anything else."

"My Lord… if I may ask, when did your magic disappear again?" Bellatrix sat down and Banished the tray back to the kitchen. She poked at her poached egg until the yolk came running out all over her pie, and she listened as Voldemort told her,

"Day before yesterday, I woke up… I tried to shave my face. Nothing. I tries to Scour my teeth. Nothing. Tried to shatter the windows, to whip up the sea. Nothing. I couldn't even Levitate a pillow. A damned first-year spell. It was all gone. I tried to call you through the Mark. Nothing. Veles was gone; he didn't fly back until yesterday. I thought of writing you in London to Summon you here, but… I waited. I hoped it would return."

"You called me through the Mark earlier," Bellatrix reminded him, taking a bite of her Scotch pie, and he nodded.

"Doing that felt like someone had pulled the life straight out of me. And when I tried to use magic again afterward, I fell to my knees and couldn't stand for five minutes."

So that was why he'd looked so drawn and weary earlier. Bellatrix pinched her lips and stared out the window.

"What about a Draining?" She was almost afraid to ask about it, for it was something she'd only learnt in seventh-year Defence Against the Dark Arts. A Draining was an act of supremely Dark magic, in which a witch or wizard used complex spells to steal the magical abilities of another.

"It's only used to augment power, not replace it," Voldemort reminded her, shaking his head. "How am I to cast the spells?"

That was a good point, but Bellatrix pointed out,

"It can be done in reverse. Draining oneself to pour the magic into another. Just like the story of the witch who birthed a Squib and Drained herself to give her son magical ability. Remember, My Lord?"

"Yes, I know the story," he snapped, "but even under the Imperius Curse, you're not going to be able to coordinate some random Mudblood Draining themselves properly, and -"

"What if I did it?" Bellatrix asked the question without thinking, and Voldemort looked at her like she'd gone utterly mad.

"I am not going to Drain you," he whispered, stuffing three bites in a row of his Scotch pie into his mouth. Bellatrix finally told him,

"I am your servant. Your slave. If I do not live for you, I live for nothing at all. I will gladly go through this world without magic for you, Master. I would die for you, a thousand times over. Please, I beg you… let me give you my magic."

"No." He kept on eating, swigging at his wine and slamming the glass down so hard Bellatrix thought it might break. He shook his head vehemently and said again, "I am not going to Drain you."

"Why not?" Bellatrix asked impulsively, and he glared at her with such danger in his dark eyes that she cowered in her seat. He leaned toward her a little and hissed,

"I am the Dark Lord Voldemort. I owe you no explanations whatsoever. I am not going to Drain you. Mention it again and you will be severely punished."

"I'm sorry, Master." Bellatrix stared at her mostly uneaten food, feeling abruptly bereft of an appetite. She nervously drank some wine and studied his face, the way his eyes were coursing all over her. He shrugged at last and said in an odd tone,

"I care far too much about you to do such a thing. Do you not understand that?"

"I suppose not," Bellatrix said, "but I beg you to know that I offer myself so completely only because I am so devoted to you."

He touched his napkin to his lips. "I know. But I am not going to Drain you, Bellatrix, because… because I can not. I simply can not. There must be another solution. I refuse to accept that as a solution; we will find a better answer. If anyone is Drained, it will be a Mudblood. We'll just do our best Imperiusing someone, even though the spells are complex. It's… I will… Bella."

He reached quickly across the table and seized her hand, and his fingers shook around his as his eyes blazed.

"You're staying here with me."

"I am," she nodded, curling her fingers until they laced with his. His throat bobbed, and he said,

"I do not wish for you to leave."

"I'm not going anywhere, Master," Bellatrix assured him, "unless you bid me do it."

"Good girl," he nodded, pulling his hand back. "What a good little creature you are. These pies are delicious."


	12. Chapter 12

Voldemort's eyes sprang open, and he tried to catch his breath.

He'd dreamed that he'd been in a cave, weak and alone, crumpled up in a ball with no magic to protect him. A swarm of enemies had come in and hit him with spell after spell… hexes to peel his flesh from his bones and to slice open his organs. He'd been bleeding, dying, and Dumbledore had rushed in to save him, only to insist that Voldemort could be powerful again if he would only surrender his ambition.

Now Voldemort stared at his bedroom wall and tried to calm his thumping heart. He shifted a little, which seemed to rouse Bellatrix beside him, and he heard her ask in a gravelly voice,

"My Lord? Is everything all right?"

"Everything's fine," he lied, wondering if she'd been right about performing a Draining. If he could train her hard enough, perhaps she could capture and Imperius a Mudblood into doing it.

He rolled over and stared at her for a moment. She was so young, only eighteen, and though she was talented, she had minimal experience with Unforgivables. Voldemort watched her blink open her eyes and stare earnestly up at him, and he told her,

"I'm going to write to Malfoy and demand a comprehensive list of Mudbloods in Cornwall. Then you're going to disable one, capture him and bring him here, and you will force him to Drain himself. Just like in the story."

Bellatrix looked amazed, but she nodded and noted,

"I will need to practise Imperiusing, My Lord. I'm not very good."

"There are plenty of sea gulls to coerce into all manner of strange flight patterns," Voldemort told her. He tipped his head against his pillow then and reached to tuck Bellatrix's hair. "Birds' minds aren't like human minds. You shall need to practise on me."

She looked shocked at that, but he insisted,

"It'll take a few days for Malfoy to get me that list. You'll have plenty of time."

"I'm not worried about time," she whispered. She shook her head a bit and told him, "I can't boss you about. You're my master."

"And I'm instructing you to practise your Imperius Curse skills, Bellatrix. Do you mean to disobey me?" Voldemort sat up a little, and Bellatrix shook her head wildly. Suddenly Voldemort had an idea, and he flicked his eyes to Bellatrix's wand on the nightstand. "Go on, then. Let's practise."

"Now? I mean… now, My Lord?" Bellatrix reached for her wand but seemed utterly shocked, and Voldemort smirked.

"I should like to be physical with you," he told her, "and I fully consent to any act you might think up. So… go on. Think something up. Do it, Bellatrix."

" _Imperio_ ," she whispered, her voice shaking. Even without his magic, he quickly pushed through her spell, and shook his head.

"Mean it," he commanded her. Bellatrix nodded once, sat up straighter, and barked,

" _Imperio_!" Green smoke puffed from her wand and wrapped around Voldemort's face. He felt then as if he were floating, as if her voice were coming from underwater.

"Go get in the shower, My Lord," he heard her say, and he felt an internal force dragging him out of the bed. Someone else was making his feet walk. Even if it had occurred to him to resist, he wouldn't have been able to do so. He felt more than he heard the command then as Bellatrix willed him to take his clothes off first, and he stripped his pyjama trousers and underwear off. He left them in a pile on the bathroom floor, and his hand moved to open the glass shower door.

He stepped into the black tile and turned on the taps, thinking distantly that the water was cold. He adjusted them until it was just hot water, under which he stood in silence, waiting. She hadn't given him any other commands, and he didn't feel like doing anything else.

Suddenly she was there, naked and beautiful, stepping into the shower with him and aiming her wand at him as she whispered again,

" _Imperio_."

He wanted to tell her that she didn't need to do that, that her spell had stuck and that she was doing a very good job, but his lips wouldn't move correctly. He shut his eyes against the thud of her commanding thoughts, and she murmured,

"Touch me, Master."

"Where?" He needed more information, but as he opened his eyes, Bellatrix's cheeks went pink, and she turned around and backed up against him. She pulled his left hand to her breast, slick beneath the water, and his right hand went between her legs.

"Touch me," she said again. Voldemort's hands moved quite of their own accord then. Or, rather, they moved because she had willed it so. He was flicking at her nipple and pawing at the soft, pillowy flesh of her round breast. He was fiddling with her clit and pressing two fingers into her entrance. She liked it. He could tell by the way she tipped her head back and almost dropped her wand. Voldemort bent to kiss her neck a little. This was touching, too, wasn't it? Or perhaps it was simply that he didn't need her permission for this. He decided to see what he could do without her permission then, as his cock grew hard against her back.

He moved her up onto the tile seat that was built into the shower, encouraging her to kneel facing away from him. He kept touching her, just like she'd commanded him to do, but he edged her legs apart and tipped her forward a little.

"Fuck me, My Lord," she whispered, and Voldemort couldn't find it in himself to be scandalised or amused by her word choice. All he could do was obey. He pushed himself into her with one smooth thrust, cycling his hips as his own back arched a little. He heard his voice echo off the tiles with a little groan. It mingled with Bellatrix's; she was moaning desperately and slapped the tile as she insisted,

"Faster. Do it faster."

He did as she said. He had no choice. He fucked her more vigorously than he'd ever done, jerking his hips and holding onto her waist for support. He didn't want her to fall. The water streamed over the both of them, which felt supremely erotic. Bellatrix shrieked a bit as she came. Her hands groped at the wall and her hair fell around her face in clumpy wet tendrils. She turned her face and looked uncertain as she told him,

"Finish. Now. Finish hard."

He did, his body completely beyond his control. Voldemort wrenched his eyes shut as he came inside of her, his seed pumping for much longer than usual. Some distant part of his brain marveled at the fact that she'd been able to coerce him into an on-demand climax, but ultimately it just seemed sexy.

Bellatrix slithered out from beneath Voldemort and rinsed herself off, washing away the evidence of what he'd done to her. Voldemort just stared, observing with wonder the beauty of her form. Bellatrix finally whispered,

"Tell me what you think of me. Master."

"I think you are magnificent," he said automatically. He hadn't thought about it, but he knew at once that it was the truth. More words spilled forth without a thought. "I think you are beautiful. I think you're funny and very good company. You're intelligent and shrewd. You're not afraid of battle. You are devoted to me. I think that I…"

Something cracked then. Her spell was breaking down. His mind was reeling, pushing hard against the way he was talking. He gulped hard, and Bellatrix's eyes were frightened as she asked him,

"Tell me… do you like me better than the others?"

"Of course I do," Voldemort nodded. "You're more than they could ever dream of being, and I… I…"

 _NO!_ Something inside of him shrieked. _Don't_ _tell her!_

"Tell me," she said, touching her hands to his wet chest. Voldemort brought her knuckles to his lips and shut his eyes.

"I feel things toward you that I have never felt toward another human. I care very deeply for you. More deeply than I'd thought possible. I want you all the time. I want you to be near me for simple things like meals and reading. I want you sleeping beside me. I want your body. I was very jealous when I realised that Rodolphus Lestrange thinks himself in love with you. I felt a coil of envy, of… possession. I want to possess you, in a different way than I possess the others."

Bellatrix's brows furrowed a little, and she shivered where she stood outside the hot water. Voldemort moved them about until she was under the water and he was cold. Bellatrix reached for her wand off the chair in the shower and brushed it down Voldemort's arm, making him shiver.

" _Finite_ _Incantatem_ ," she said. Voldemort felt clear-headed again, though he remembered everything.

"Are you very angry with me, My Lord?" Bellatrix asked him, and he just shook his head. He took her face in his hands as the water started to go chilly. He touched his lips to hers and mumbled,

"It's late. Back to bed with us both, Miss Black."

She nodded firmly. "Yes, Master."


	13. Chapter 13

"Eldon Turner?"

The Mudblood whirled round at the sound of his name, glancing around the quiet street in Penzance. His eyes finally settled on Bellatrix, and he asked carefully,

"May I help you?"

"Are you Eldon Turner?" Bellatrix asked again, and the man nodded once. Bellatrix whipped her wand out and quickly incanted, " _Expelliarmus_."

A thin wand of pale wood came whizzing from Eldon Turner's jacket, and Bellatrix deftly caught it. She used her left hand to tuck it away, and she dashed forward to grab hold of Turner's jacket sleeve. Eldon Turner's eyes blazed with confused fear for a half second, and then Bellatrix Disapparated with him in tow.

The pinching, whirling sensation almost hurt, mostly because Eldon Turner was fighting it for the entire moment of travel. But it was no use; Bellatrix was exceptionally good at Apparition and landed with him outside Lord Voldemort's house.

" _Imperio_."

Bellatrix's spell washed over Eldon Turner in a haze of green smoke. She'd practised several times with the Dark Lord now, and she'd become skilled enough that her Imperius Curse visibly rattled the Mudblood she'd kidnapped. They'd chosen him off a list because his disappearance would go unnoticed for at least a little while. He lived alone, unmarried with deceased Muggle parents, and he was a scholar of wandlore currently working on a book about walnut trees in magic.

Now he was none of that. He wasn't a bachelor or a writer. He was just a source of magical power, a battery of sorts to kickstart the Dark Lord back into full functionality.

"Follow me," Bellatrix commanded, walking with a purpose up to the front door of the house. Eldon Turner followed her obediently, his eyes looking a little glazed. Bellatrix opened the door and strolled into the parlour, where the Dark Lord stood waiting. Voldemort smiled a little as he caressed his own wand.

"Well done, Bella," he said softly. "Mr Turner. Thank you for coming today."

"You're… you're him. Lord… He Who Must Not Be Named! It's you!" Eldon Turner seemed utterly horrified, and Bellatrix couldn't help but giggle. Voldemort smirked and took a step toward Eldon Turner.

"Yes. It is I… _He Who Must Not Be Named_. But you needn't worry, Mr Turner. You won't live long enough to tell anyone about me."

"Stay," Bellatrix barked then, because Turner had tried to dash out toward the front door of the house. He skidded to a halt and whirled around, going back to Bellatrix's side. His eyes were wide with terror, and Bellatrix asked, "My Lord, shall we begin?"

"Let me sit," Voldemort said, sounding slightly unnerved all of a sudden. He sank down into one of the leather armchairs and nodded. Bellatrix cleared her throat and handed Eldon Turner his wand. She mentally willed Turner to begin chanting the spells that she'd memorised, the ones they'd found in the book in the library. These were the Draining Spells, the ancient words to give or take power forever.

" _Dabo tibi Fortamia Magica… Lord Voldemort, dabo tibi Fortamia Magica…_ "

Eldon Turner's wand seemed to be pulling light and life straight out of him. Blurred colours whirled through the air, drawn from his flesh and pulled into the wand. That was translated into a thin silver beam that centred on Voldemort's heart and pulsed. Bellatrix was entranced for a moment, but then she focused on commanding Turner to continue.

"Lord Voldemort," whispered Turner, " _dabo tibi Fortamia Magica. Dabo tibi Fortamia Magica._ "

He seemed weaker by the moment, his hand shaking ferociously as the silver light grew a little brighter and thumped along with Voldemort's heartbeat. Voldemort eyed Bellatrix and nodded solemnly. It was working. Suddenly the silver light cut off from Turner's wand and slipped straight into Voldemort's chest. Turner stopped whispering spells then, his hand dropping and his wand clattering to the ground. His lips had gone pale, and he murmured,

"I am empty."

"And, thus, I am no longer empty," Voldemort nodded. Then he rose from his chair, seeming very energetic indeed. He held his right hand out toward Eldon Turner, his palm flat in the air, and he snarled, " _Avada Kedavra!_ "

Wandless magic was always impressive. Most wizards would never be able to accomplish so much as a simple levitation spell without a wand. For nearly every witch and wizard, wands were essential for channeling magic properly. To perform an Unforgivable Curse without a wand was unheard of. It was utterly shocking, therefore, for Bellatrix to see a flash of green light and for Eldon Turner to crumple to the ground, dead.

Voldemort laughed under his breath and wandlessly, nonverbally Summoned Turner's wand. He held it and stared at it for a moment, then he snapped it in half and tossed the pieces into the air. He Vanished them, again without a wand, and then quickly Vanished Turner's body.

It all happened so fast that Bellatrix could scarcely soak in what it meant. Her lord and master was more powerful than ever. The air around him seemed to crackle with magic, and as he stepped toward her, his eyes were glittering.

"Do you trust me?" His voice was dangerous then. Bellatrix gulped and nodded.

"Yes, Master. Of course I trust you."

"Then come flying with me," he said breathlessly. Bellatrix frowned and shook her head.

"I'm not very good on a broomstick, My Lord, but I'll -"

"No." He took her face in his hands and touched his lips to hers. She felt a buzz, a vibration from his mouth into hers, and then he whispered again, "Come flying with me."

He seized her hand and dragged her out of the parlour, out the front door and down the little steps that led up to the house. He held her as though they were dancing, one arm going behind her back and the other threading his fingers through hers.

"Hold fast to me," he commanded her, and Bellatrix felt a surge of confusion. Then, very suddenly, she was off the ground. Her stomach lurched and she screamed a little as they soared upward. She found herself instinctively wrapping her legs around Voldemort's waist and holding onto him for dear life, but he didn't seem to mind. He seemed quite confident as he moved quickly through the air, as though an invisible broom was beneath him.

"You can fly?" Bellatrix shouted in disbelief. He smirked at her and tipped his head as they soared on down toward the sea.

"Yes, Wendy," he said. "Peter Pan can fly."

She didn't get the reference, and it did seem like he was referencing something. But she couldn't focus on her confusion now. She was afraid, and mesmerised, and awestruck and in love.

She realised that last bit too late, for he was inside her mind with Legilimency. She felt a little zap of his attention in her brain when she thought of him like that. He stopped flying and joked,

"You're holding onto me like a cat who's being threatened with water."

"Well," Bellatrix said, staring down at the turquoise sea and the rugged beach, "I'm not a cat, but I am being threatened with water."

"There isn't any threat." Voldemort cocked up an eyebrow and reached to cup Bellatrix's jaw. He kissed her lips carefully and noted, "It worked."

The Draining, he meant. Bellatrix chuckled, feeling frigid up this high, and she nodded.

"Yes, My Lord. Judging by the way you executed him wandlessly and are now flying above the ocean, I would say that it worked."

"Are you frightened?" Voldemort asked. Bellatrix didn't know exactly what he meant. Was she frightened of him? Of the height at which they'd parked themselves? Was she? No. She wasn't.

"I'm not afraid," she told him, and he nodded.

"Good, brave little creature." He tilted his body, and they started moving again as though they were flying with brooms. Over the waves they soared, and then down, down toward the house. They landed on the decking that overlooked the beach, and once her feet touched the wood, Bellatrix choked out a nervous laugh and said,

"Well. That's better than the stairs."

"You're in love with me." Voldemort took a half step back from Bellatrix and straightened his robes. Her lips fell open and her throat went tight as she shook her head and insisted,

"It was an impulsive thought, Master."

"But a genuine one," he nodded knowingly. "You feel even more strongly about me than Rodolphus Lestrange feels about you."

"Oh, My Lord." Bellatrix stared out toward the ocean, feeling her eyes burn. Did she love him? Of course she did. Over these last weeks, she couldn't help but fall in love with him. She shut her eyes and asked, "Will I be punished?"

"No," he said simply. Bellatrix felt relief wash over her. Then she felt him come up behind her and wrap his arms around her abdomen. He stroked at her rib cage and bent to kiss her cheek, and he whispered, "You did well, Bella. Getting him for me. Imperiusing him. You served me very well today."

"The best birthday gift I could want, My Lord," Bellatrix grinned. His hands froze then, and for a moment, all Bellatrix could feel was her own heartbeat thumping in her ears. She turned round slowly to see him staring down at her, wide-eyed with an emotion she couldn't quite pin down. She smirked and said,

"You didn't know, did you, Master?"

"Today?" He sounded horrified, and Bellatrix nodded.

"Yes, My Lord. I'm nineteen years old today."

"Why didn't you… why did you not mention it?" He tipped his chin up and seemed irritated all of a sudden. Bellatrix shrugged and said,

"Today was the day we'd agreed upon for capturing the Mudblood, for Draining him… that seemed far more important than a silly little birthday."

"Silly little…" Voldemort huffed a breath out, and his throat bobbed. His featured hardened, and he commanded Bellatrix, "You stay here."

He turned to go into the house, and Bellatrix panicked. Was she in trouble? It seemed as though she was in trouble.

"My Lord? Where are you going?" She never would have dared to ask him such a question when she'd first come here, but things were different now. He glared at her over his shoulder and said,

"I am perfectly capable of utilising magical cookbooks, Miss Black, and you must have a cake. Stay out here."

He slammed the door shut behind him, and Bellatrix felt her lips curl up a little as she whispered,

"Yes, Master."

 **Author's Note: So the Draining worked! Yay! But will it be a permanent solution? Is Voldemort stronger than ever? And is it adorable or just odd that the Dark Lord is going to magically bake Bellatrix a birthday cake? Will it taste good or bad? All this and more will be addressed in the next chapter. Mwah hahaha. As always, feedback is valued like the finest gold!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note: All aboard the Bellatrix Fluff Express! Choo choo!**

 _To complete the baking process, incant the spell 'Cocquo' and hold the wand steady for thirty seconds. To spread the icing over the cake, Levitate the completed icing made in Step Four and utilize Smoothing Charms, or complete by hand with a spatula for a more rustic finish. To decorate the cake, you can use coloured icing and drag about the cake with your wand as desired._

Lord Voldemort glared at the cookbook. This particular one was loose with its instructions and seemed made for either old witches accustomed to frequent baking or imbeciles whose finished product would be inedible. Voldemort was neither of those things, but somehow he'd managed to make a three-layer round vanilla cake that was currently on a stand before him. He stared at the little bowl of dark green frosting he'd whipped up, and he nonverbally turned it into a floating ribbon on the air.

He brought the frosting down onto the cake and worked carefully but quickly. He spelled out _Happy birthday, Bella_ and then wondered if he ought to add the last four letters of her name. He decided against it and Vanished the leftover frosting, Scouring the bowls and Banishing them into the cupboards. He sent the cake floating toward the dining room table, and he worked efficiently to get china plates and napkins out and set. He poured two glasses of white wine and sent them over to the table, and then he stalked to the door that led to the decking.

Bellatrix flew to her feet as soon as he walked outside, and she bowed her head as she told him,

"My Lord. I was just thinking about how very happy I am to see you at your full strength again."

"Thank you," Voldemort nodded crisply. He stared at her for a moment and tried to figure out why he'd baked her a cake. This was not a gesture he would have ever extended toward anyone else, so it was almost mind-boggling to do it now. And, yet, it felt strangely ordinary and even inevitable. It was her birthday. There was need of a cake.

"You may come inside now," he told her, and Bellatrix followed him back into the house. Her eyes settled on the dining-room table, and all of a sudden tears had formed in her gaze. She seemed to be struggling for words, so Voldemort tried to break the tension by informing her,

"If it's no good, I won't take offence. You needn't eat it if you -"

"I'm sure it's just fine, Master," Bellatrix nodded. She walked quickly to the table, and Voldemort used his wand to pull her chair out. He pushed her back in and then sat, Conjuring nineteen little candles and lighting them all with a flourish. He smirked at Bellatrix through the glow of the candlelight and asked,

"Shall I sing?"

Her lips fell open a little, and she whispered,

"Only if you want to."

He didn't even feel silly then as he sang in a low, slow voice, " _Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you…"_

Her lips curled up at the sound of him singing, so he laughed a little and finished,

 _"Happy birthday, dear Bellatrix. Happy birthday to you."_

"You must stay out of my head for my wish," she teased him then. "They're meant to be secret."

"I'm not in your head," he assured her honestly. Bellatrix shut her eyes then, her fingers gripping the edge of the table, and she blew out all her candles. One by one, Voldemort Vanished them, smoothing over the frosting atop the cake. He used his wand to sever and dish out a slice to Bellatrix and one to himself, and he waited for her to take a bite.

When she did, the sound she made was so sensual that Voldemort's cock twitched unexpectedly. She looked so beautiful with her wind-kissed cheeks and her happy little smile, and Voldemort found himself asking meekly,

"Well? Is it all right?"

"It is perfect, My Lord." Bellatrix sipped from her wine and then grinned. "Thank you."

"Well. Think of it as a dual celebration. Your birthday and me getting my strength back. I only wish you'd told me, Bella… I wish you'd given me time to procure a proper gift for you."

"A gift?" She looked genuinely surprised by that, and she shook her head as she told him, "My Lord, I would never need a gift from you. Being in your presence is the greatest -"

"Stop. Please stop." Voldemort set his fork down and folded his hands, touching his forehead to his knuckles. He looked up to see Bellatrix confused, and he shrugged as he told her, "I know you worship me; you needn't say things like that."

"Things like what, Master?" Bellatrix seemed a little afraid now, so Voldemort shifted in his chair and tried to keep his voice calm and easy.

"Telling me that my presence is greater for you than a birthday gift. Things like that."

"I'm sorry if I've upset you, My Lord," Bellatrix said, setting down her own fork. "I meant it; I wasn't just making things up."

"I know," he nodded. "I know how you feel about me as your master, as a man. I know. But I would have very much liked to have time to get you a proper birthday gift, Bellatrix, because you deserve one. Not just because you're a fine servant - which you are - but because… because I…"

She nodded, and he tried as hard as he could to keep the words contained in his mouth. He didn't love her. It hadn't been long enough yet to fall in love in the first place, and he wasn't even capable of such a thing. He'd decided that a very long time ago. Love was not something with which he could be bothered. It was not a priority; it was not a sensation in which his soul could engage. He was confident of that. But he felt something real, something visceral and powerful for Bellatrix, and suddenly he told her,

"I want you to move permanently from your flat in London. End your lease. I want to you live here, with me. Permanently."

Bellatrix looked shocked. She glanced down at the cake he'd made and just nodded a little as she whispered,

"All right."

"Bella?" His voice cracked a bit, which ought to have embarrassed him but didn't. Her eyes were dark and wide and very, very pretty then as he told her, "I'll cast a Preserving Charm on the cake. Go upstairs and wait for me in the bed."

"Clothes?" She dragged her finger around the rim of her wine glass, and Voldemort just shook his head.

"No clothes. Go."

"Yes, Master. Thank you for the cake." Bellatrix obediently rose and walked away, leaving her mostly-uneaten cake behind. Voldemort Preserved all the cake on the table to keep it from drying out, realising that this was hardly the first time he'd sent her upstairs for sex from the table. But she would always obey, because she was so very obedient all the way to her core.

And she wanted him. He could tell that every time he touched her; she came alive beneath his fingers. Voldemort put his knuckles to his forehead and rubbed again, feeling the thrum of his recovered magic in his veins. He pushed his chair back and rose, clearing his throat almost formally as he made his way up the stairs.

She was there in the bed, lying obediently on the covers. He said nothing as he stripped; he just folded his clothes and set them aside, and then he climbed up onto his side of the bed. He faced Bellatrix and ran his fingers from her breast down over her rib cage and hip. Her breath hitched a little, and Voldemort started to harden. He kept touching her, his fingers gliding down her arm and around her chest, over her flat stomach and teasing her between her thighs.

Neither of them said anything when she reached between them and took his half-hard cock in her hand. She started to play with his tip, to rub at his length a little, and Voldemort sighed happily. He rolled Bellatrix until she was on her back, and she wrapped her legs around him dutifully. He pushed slowly into her, grunting at the feel of her snug, wet warmth. He began to push and pull, to fill her slowly and deeply. Every thrust was smooth and purposeful, and it felt so good that Voldemort got dizzy. He bent to kiss Bellatrix and tasted sugar on her, the sugar he'd used to bake her a cake. It seemed silly when he thought about it like that, but it didn't taste silly.

The silence between them felt right, for some reason. There was no reason to talk right now, no use for words. He just kissed her, then touched his lips to her neck and let his breath caress her skin. Her hands rubbed at his back as he cycled his hips. He tried to grind against her the way she liked, and after a long time, her head tipped back a little and she whimpered softly through an easy and subtle climax. The sight of her, flushed and breathless with her eyes fluttered shut, was enough to finish Voldemort off. He kissed her through his own finale, feeling himself twitch and jolt a bit inside of her.

He rolled to the side and then onto his back, and Bellatrix curled up beside him. It was the middle of the day, but here they were, quiet in bed, and Voldemort had no inclination at all to move. Finally Bellatrix kissed at his chest and asked him,

"Can we go finish that cake?"

He scoffed a little and nodded, remembering the sight of her as she Imperiused their victim into giving Voldemort magic again. She was so much, he thought suddenly, and that dangerous word edged its way back toward his consciousness again. He swallowed hard and whispered,

"Happy birthday, Bella."

She kissed his skin again and murmured, "Thank you, My Lord."


	15. Chapter 15

"Sit. We have much to discuss."

Bellatrix sat at her master's command, and so did the rest of the Death Eaters in attendance at Malfoy Manor. She was a few seats down from him today, because they'd come separately. It wouldn't do, he'd said, for his other followers to think he had a favourite. Bellatrix still didn't know if she was his favourite, or what exactly she was to him, if anything. She did know that the night before, she'd fallen asleep curled up beside him, and she'd woken this morning to the feel of his lips on her forehead.

Now she half paid attention as Lord Voldemort discussed everyone's ongoing missions with them. At present, he was grilling Avery on what had happened in Hogsmeade.

"Morton Mills was easy enough to kidnap, Master," Avery said.

"And you Transfigured your features?" Voldemort asked, cocking up a dark brow. Avery nodded quickly and asserted,

"Nobody recognised us, My Lord. Mulciber Transfigured me, I Transfigured Nott, and we all wound up looking entirely different. We lured Mills into an alley by asking for help."

"Help," Voldemort smirked. "Damned Gryffindor. I'm sure he wanted to help you."

"He was eager enough, Master," Nott said. "We set up a barrier in the alley to distract any passers-by. We Silenced Mills so his screams wouldn't alert anyone, and we immobilised him to make the process easier for us."

"When you severed his limbs," Voldemort asked, "what did you do with them?"

"We Vanished them, My Lord," said Mulciber, "and then we cauterised the stumps so he wouldn't bleed out. We Levitated and Disillusioned him and deposited him outside the gates of Hogwarts."

Voldemort nodded. "And the Dark Mark?"

"Was cast into the sky just before we Disapparated," Avery said. Voldemort seemed pleased, but he wasn't one to heap praise upon anyone. Bellatrix watched as Voldemort looked around the table and said,

"We need more attacks like this one. They'll unnerve Dumbledore. They'll keep the Ministry occupied. Attacks on Muggles, Mudbloods. Allies of Dumbledore. We create our own chaos. Lestrange."

Rodolphus jolted at the sound of his name, and he sat up straighter in his chair. Bellatrix studied his face, the round softness that contrasted so heavily with Voldemort's sharp features. Rodolphus looked like a child here among these older men, and for the first time, Bellatrix realised she was the only witch in the room. She and Rodolphus were the youngest by at least seven or eight years. She flashed him a tiny smile when his eyes went to her, but he turned his attention back to Voldemort.

"I instructed you to begin spying well for me in the Department of Magical Games and Sports," Voldemort reminded Rodolphus. The younger wizard nodded and glanced to Rookwood. Then he said,

"Master, I have been reporting to Augustus Rookwood. I have been doing my best to obtain useful information."

"Yes. And now, thanks to you, we know to avoid upcoming Quidditch matches," Voldemort nodded. "Ministry traps, as you told Rookwood."

"I believe so, Master," Rodolphus nodded. "Anyone they directly suspect of being a Death Eater… they plan to publicly arrest us at Quidditch matches and take us to the Ministry for questioning."

"And who do they suspect of being a Death Eater?" Voldemort asked. Rodolphus' cheeks went a little red, and he admitted,

"I'm not privy to that information, My Lord."

"Master, the only ones among us whom the Ministry suspects are Travers, Avery, and… myself," said Rookwood. "But they have no hard evidence against any one of us now."

"Then we must be careful. We can not afford for our ranks to be shipped off to Azkaban," Voldemort said. He sighed and cleared his throat. "Mulciber, Avery, and Nott. You did well in Hogsmeade. Find some Muggles and make a scene. Everyone else, continue work as usual. Dismissed."

Bellatrix rose with the others, knowing that she wasn't supposed to stay too close to Voldemort just now. They'd meet up at his house in Cornwall, but here at the Manor, they were separate entities.

"Bellatrix?"

She turned halfway down the corridor at the sound of her name and saw Rodolphus walking quickly toward her. He smiled shyly and wrung his hands in front of him, and Bellatrix pulled off to a wood paneled wall as she said,

"Sounds like you're doing well at the Ministry, Rodolphus."

"I'm doing my best," he nodded. "And you? How are you doing?"

"My best," Bellatrix smirked. Then, knowing she was being rude, she tucked her hair behind her ear and amended, "I've been busy. We all have. But I adore this life. Don't you?"

"I do." Rodolphus dragged his fingers through his dark hair and cleared his throat, looking very nervous all of a sudden. "Bellatrix, I… I've been trying to gather the courage for some time to ask you, but… would you perhaps consider joining me for dinner sometime? I would like to host you for an evening at Castle Lestrange."

"Dinner?" Bellatrix felt her eyebrows fly up, and Rodolphus looked humiliated. He waved his hand and stammered,

"N-no. It's… it's a stupid suggestion, I know. I shouldn't have asked. Sorry."

"Dinner," Bellatrix said again. What harm was there in dinner, she wondered? After all, Voldemort had told her to come here separately from him because they weren't 'together,' and it was important that nobody think they were 'together.' She lived with him, but he didn't love her. He knew she loved him, and he hadn't said it back. That meant something, Bellatrix supposed. She wasn't his girlfriend. She would never be his wife. Whatever she meant to him, it wasn't real. It wasn't formal. Dinner was just dinner, and it would be awful to turn down the boy who had broken up her assault.

"Dinner would be nice," Bellatrix said, and Rodolphus' face suddenly broke out into an enormous grin. His chest heaved with excitement as he asked,

"Tomorrow? Are you available tomorrow?"

"She is not," said a stern voice from behind Rodolphus. The younger wizard whirled round to see his master with his arms crossed, a glare written into his features. Bellatrix's stomach churned all of a sudden, for she'd never seen his face quite like this. Voldemort turned his angry black eyes to Bellatrix and barked,

"You've forgotten about your work, have you? Lestrange, Miss Black is not available tomorrow or any night in the near future."

"Oh. Of course. I understand and I apologise, Master… Bellatrix, please let me know if you ever do have a spare evening. I should very much like to dine with you." Rodolphus gave his trademark smile, shy and crooked, and Bellatrix felt awful. She just nodded, watching as Rodolphus bowed low to his master. He turned to go, and Bellatrix was left alone in the corridor with Voldemort. Once everyone had gone, Voldemort seized Bellatrix's wrist and started to drag her toward the stairs.

"Ow," Bellatrix said on instinct, because he was squeezing her tightly enough that it hurt. He let up his pressure just a little, but as they marched out the front doors of the manor, Bellatrix hissed, "My Lord, someone will see us walking like this and -"

"Good. We've seen what happens when there is confusion. He was confused, you were confused. No more confusion. You're mine." Voldemort's voice was icy and hard, and as they passed the Apparition Point, he took Bellatrix's shoulders and said down to her again,

"You are mine."

"I'm sorry," Bellatrix whispered. Voldemort's throat bobbed, and he Disapparated. Bellatrix was dizzy with the force of their movement, and when they landed in Cornwall, she was thrown down to her knees. It was drizzling, and her skirts got wet at once. Voldemort hauled her up by her elbow, and Bellatrix shivered from cold and fear as she stared up at him.

"I'm sorry, Master," she said quietly. "I was just trying not to be ungrateful to him. I feel nothing for him. I feel everything for you."

"How could you?" He sounded abruptly wounded then, like a beast who had taken an arrow. He shook his head, his eyes shining strangely. "He asked you for dinner in his home and you said yes. You said yes, Bellatrix; how could you not comprehend that you're already… that you and I are…"

"My Lord, I was just trying to be polite," Bellatrix said once more, and Voldemort scoffed. His hair started to get plastered down by the soft rain, and he dragged it away from his eyes as he told her firmly, "Witches who are already taken are not privy to private dinners with other wizards."

"Taken?" Bellatrix glanced up to the house, realising how foolish she'd been. Of course she was taken. They were physical all the time. Thy spent most of their time together. They lived together. How could she have thought she was available at all to Rodolphus Lestrange? Bellatrix turned her eyes back to her master, feeling tears boil up as the guilt wracked her. She shook her head and whispered for the third time, "I'm sorry."

"Don't you know?" He sounded incredulous, and he seized Bellatrix's face in his hands as he snarled in a low voice, "Can't you tell that I'm in love with you?"

She couldn't answer then, too breathless from shock. He kissed her hard, and Bellatrix reached to ball her hands around sodden robes as she kissed him back.

Yes, she thought. She was taken.

 **Author's Note: I've said it before and I'll say it again - I strongly believe that Voldemort is capable of love *under the right circumstances.* I do believe that his interpretation of what love is and should be is toxic, that he doesn't actually understand love the way others do, and that there is virtually nobody to whom he could give the emotion of love. But this is Bellatrix - his Bellatrix, and I think it's possible. Or, at least, I think it's possible that he thinks he's in love. What do you think? I'd love people's thoughts on this. And, no, Voldemort is not about to turn into a mushy guy. He's angry now, at Rodolphus and at the boys who assaulted Bellatrix. He's angry at Dumbledore for cursing him. He's dangerous, and we're about to see just what he's capable of doing when he's dangerous.**


	16. Chapter 16

"Travers. Come in."

Lord Voldemort looked up from his desk to the office door where Travers and his son Silas stood anxiously. Voldemort had Summoned them both here with a strongly worded owl, and now he shut the door behind them and said sharply,

"Sit."

Travers cleared his throat and sat, and lanky Silas Travers looked as though he was going to throw up.

"M-My Lord," the boy said, "What an honour it is to -"

"Be silent," Voldemort said smoothly. Then he turned to the elder Travers and announced, "Your son has committed an egregious offence. I have seen the memory with my own eyes. There was a witch upon whom he laid his hands, even when she told him no."

"Bellatrix, you mean," Silas whispered, and Voldemort glared at him.

"I told you to be silent."

Silas lowered his head, and Voldemort pushed into his mind with nonverbal Legilimency. He sifted through the boy's memories until he found the night Bellatrix had been assaulted. He watched through Silas' eyes, saw the way he thought Bellatrix was beautiful and soft, the way he wanted so badly to push her knickers aside and fuck her right there in front of everyone.

Voldemort pulled out of the boy's head and said quietly,

"Your sin is unforgivable. That your father is in my service is the only factor saving your life. I am being merciful with you now, granting you the ability to keep on breathing despite your hideous deeds. Do you understand me, boy?"

"Yes, My Lord," Silas muttered, staring at his lap. "I understand."

"Get up," Voldemort barked then. He stood, and when Silas hesitated, Voldemort used his bare hand to yank him out of the chair and toss him against the wall. Silas Travers landed like a rag doll on the office floor, coughing and gripping his side as he rose. The elder Travers looked immensely concerned but stayed seated, his hands gripping the arms of his chair tightly.

Voldemort wandlessly sent Silas Travers' trousers down to his ankles, buttons flying off as the Dark Lord ripped magically at the garment. Silas looked shocked by the way his genitals had been revealed, but Voldemort just tipped his head.

"You won't crave witches anymore," he said. "You won't be able to hurt them, not in the way you wanted to hurt Bellatrix Black."

"I swear, My Lord, I didn't want to hurt her," Silas whimpered. "I was drunk; I just wanted -"

"This is your last warning before I silence you permanently," Voldemort hissed. From his chair, the boy's father looked on the verge of tears, and Voldemort said in a conciliatory tone, "Travers, you may want to look away for this bit. _Diffindo. Cautero. Tergeo. Evanesco."_

He cast the spells in quick succession, and a rather hideous series of events took place. First, Silas Travers' testicles were severed off his body and dropped to the ground. There was bleeding at once, so Voldemort cauterised the wound. He siphoned up the blood and Vanished the testicles.

Silas Travers fell to his knees and shrieked. His father dashed over, holding his son's shoulder and murmuring that the pain wouldn't last, that he'd earned his punishment and needed to take it like a man.

"Yes, Silas," Voldemort said softly. "Take this punishment like the wizard you are. Go forth in life knowing that your own actions mutilated you, and that you were kept alive by the mercy of the Dark Lord. Get out of my office, the both of you. Now. Go."

Travers helped his son stand and yanked up his trousers, and as the two of them staggered from the office, Travers said over his son's agonised moaning,

"You are merciful not to kill him, Master. For that I thank you."

"Go," Voldemort said again. Travers shut the door behind him, but Voldemort could still hear Silas whimpering like a child in the corridor of Malfoy Manor. Rookwood was meeting with a few Ministry employees, Voldemort knew. He hoped they could all hear Silas Travers' pathetic crying. He'd announce it at the next meeting, that the boy had been cut apart for what he'd done.

For now he sat at his desk for a few minutes, waiting until the rain outside let up a little. Then he opened the office window and jumped out, taking flight at once and wandlessly shutting the window behind him as he soared away. He flew through the gardens and to the Apparition Point, and once he was there, he whirled hard to his right.

Back home in Cornwall, he found Bellatrix in the library, doing some reading about magical tracking. Good girl, he thought, just like always. She shut her book when he walked into the library, and she frowned deeply as she stood.

"Is something wrong, My Lord?" She knitted her hands before her and shifted on her feet. Things had been uneasy between them ever since he'd told her he loved her. He'd meant it, of course, but it had opened a can of worms that had not yet been discussed. Now he tucked his wand away and told Bellatrix,

"I have punished Silas Travers."

Bellatrix looked very surprised for a moment, and her eyes welled heavily. She nodded.

"Is he alive?"

"He is," Voldemort answered, "but he's short two testicles."

Now Bellatrix's eyes went round as saucers, and she breathed,

"You castrated him, My Lord?"

"Yes." Voldemort stepped into the room and watched as Bellatrix buried her face in her hands. Her back started to shake, then to heave, and he realised she was crying. He couldn't figure why; did she pity the boy?

"Thank you," she whispered finally, raising her eyes to him and nodding. "You… you took away that which made him dangerous and I… I'm very grateful. Thank you, Master."

"It was, quite literally, the least I could do," Voldemort shrugged. "If I could have tortured or killed him without losing followers, I'd have done it."

"I think you tortured him just fine," Bellatrix smiled, tears streaming silently down her pale cheeks. Voldemort brushed the tears away with his thumbs and felt compelled to inform her,

"I do love you, you know. It is true. I've thought long and hard about it, and I do love you."

"Master…" Bellatrix lowered her eyes, but he tipped her chin up and kissed her lips carefully. The kiss naturally deepened, and suddenly Voldemort found himself sinking into one of the leather chairs with Bellatrix following him.

"Have you taken the next dose of contraceptive potion?" He knew that wasn't a romantic question just now, but Bellatrix nodded vehemently and promised him,

"Two days ago, My Lord."

She was telling the truth, which pleased him, because he wanted her. He pulled her by her waist down onto the chair with him and pushed her skirts up. He reached to shove her knickers aside - just like Silas Travers had fantasised about doing to her - and she moaned softly in response. She leaned forward and kissed at his neck, her tongue lathing his skin and her teeth nibbling carefully. Voldemort twisted to fingers into her and played with her nub using his thumb. Bellatrix's hands flew between them and unbuttoned his trousers, pulling him out and starting to stroke.

He went completely hard within moments, grunting a little when Bellatrix suckled hard on his neck. She might leave marks, he thought distantly, and the idea made him twitch in her hand. He quickened his own fingers and kept up the pressure on her nub, and soon enough Bellatrix was tensing and pushing her hips down insistently.

"Are you going to come for me?" He was breathless now, and he felt a little lightheaded when Bellatrix nodded on his neck.

"Yes," she whispered. "Yes, My Lord, I am."

"Go ahead, Bella," he said, kissing at her cheek and urging her to bring her mouth to his. She kissed him through it, her walls clamping and snapping around his fingers. Then he couldn't wait any more, and he moved her as he lined up his cock. He pulled her down hard, and she started to rock at once.

He wasn't going to last like this, and he found himself groping her breasts through her black jumper and whispering her name. She was moving smoothly, and pressure was building up steadily inside his veins.

"Bellatrix," he mumbled, feeling like his voice was coming from somewhere else, "I do… love you."

"I believe you, Master," she panted back, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and putting her lips beside his ear, "I love you more than life itself, My Lord."

That sent him over the edge, and he growled a little as his seed leaped up into her body. Bellatrix hummed her satisfaction beside his ear, kissing the skin there and whispering softly about adoring him.

He could have stayed like that forever, wrapped up with her in the chair in the library. But he needed to get back to Malfoy Manor, to poke his head into the meeting Rookwood was holding, and he told Bellatrix regretfully,

"I have to go."

She climbed off of him, which was messy and not at all what Voldemort wanted. But she was still very pretty where she stood, and he impulsively said to her,

"Come back to Malfoy Manor with me."

Bellatrix smiled a little and nodded. "Yes, Master."


	17. Chapter 17

Voldemort stared down from the decking to the churning sea below, watching the sun sink low on the horizon. He frowned; Bellatrix had been gone for an awfully long time now. She'd gone to the White Wyvern in Knockturn Alley to have a drink or two with her father, whom she hadn't seen in some time, but she'd been gone for so long that Voldemort was beginning to worry. Bellatrix and her father weren't close, or at least not close enough to warrant a four-hour visit in a pub.

He called Bellatrix through her Dark Mark, but she didn't come. After ten minutes of standing on the decking, Voldemort went inside and made himself dinner before scrubbing up in the shower. By the time it was black outside and a total of seven hours had passed, he'd had enough waiting. He dressed and held his wand carefully in his hand, and he Disapparated to a dark corner of Knockturn Alley.

He worked quickly to Transfigure his features. He made his face rounder and gave himself a greying beard. He made his nose crooked, as it it had been broken, and he changed his hairstyle and cheekbones and jawline. He Conjured a mirror and studied his reflection, confident that he wouldn't be recognised. Then he walked up the stairs beside the tattoo parlour and into the White Wyvern.

It was quiet inside, and Voldemort saw no trace of either Bellatrix or her father. He pulled himself into a booth and waited for the busty young serving girl to come by. She looked bored as she asked,

"What can I get you?"

"Information," Voldemort said smoothly, sliding three Galleons across the table. "I'm looking for a young witch with wild black curls. She was here with her father."

"Bellatrix Black, you mean." The serving girl blew a bubble of Drooble's and chomped on the gum. She nodded, picking the Galleons up from the table. "Cygnus Black left first, and then the girl stayed and seemed to be reading the newspaper for a while. Then two wizards came up and sat with her at her table. She looked dazed, a little confused. They all Disapparated without paying the bill."

Voldemort pulled a few more Galleons from his pocket and handed them over, his stomach churning and his throat going dry.

"Who took her?"

"I didn't recognise them. Just like I don't recognise you, and I'm pretty good at knowing people." The witch tipped her head and blew another bubble in her gum. "Maybe they disguised themselves. People do that, you know?"

"Yes. Thank you. If you see her again, tell her to go home."

"Home. Sure. You want anything to eat or drink?" The girl raised an eyebrow, but Voldemort slid out from the bench and shook his head. He stepped away quickly, Disapparating mid-stride and going back to Cornwall.

She was missing. Someone had taken her. Voldemort dashed into the house and ran through the corridor, glancing at Veles in his downstairs cage. He would need to send an owl at once to Malfoy, informing him that Bellatrix Black was missing and to get all hands on finding her. He started to make his way into the library, feeling genuinely ill as the thought of Bellatrix in someone else's captivity wormed its way through his consciousness. He snatched some parchment and a quill, his fingers shaking terribly as he put ink to paper.

 _Malfoy_ , he wrote, _Bellatrix Black has gone missing. It is imperative that we -_

He paused then, for Veles was screeching from the corridor. Voldemort stepped outside and heard a rapping on the front door. He held his wand carefully and opened the door, and an owl dropped a scroll on the ground before flying away. Voldemort looked about, but there was no one except for the owl that was now soaring off into the distance. Voldemort bent to pick up the scroll, breaking its plain red seal and unfurling it. He recognised Albus Dumbledore's handwriting at once.

 _Tom_ , it began, which was infuriating in its own right. _You may rest assured that Miss Black is in very good hands here in our custody. I hope you do not take offence to my use of Legilimency with her; I know you would have done the same or worse. It is obvious you care deeply for the young woman, and I know you despise the notion of anything happening to her. I can promise you, Tom, that she will be released safely if you can make one simple promise to me. Promise that you will abandon your ambitions to overthrow the Ministry and that all attacks on innocents will cease. With this promise, Miss Black will be free and safe once more. It is good, Tom, to see how deeply you love her. Show her that affection now by writing to me with a signed promise to surrender your wicked deeds to history. Veles will find me. - A. Dumbledore_

Voldemort crumpled the letter in his hands and stepped inside his house. He shut the door behind him and leaned back. He couldn't - wouldn't - promise anybody that he would stop his movement. That wasn't possible. But he couldn't leave Bellatrix to rot or get injured, either.

If Albus Dumbledore could use Legilimency, he reckoned, so could Lord Voldemort.

He shut his eyes and thought very hard about Bellatrix. He tried to find her, to seek her out in the ether. He could feel minds in the distance, and he was so tired all of a sudden that he almost collapsed. Then, suddenly he could sense her. She was somewhere far away, and Voldemort heard himself whisper,

"Where are you, Bella? Tell me where you are… show me."

Ottery St. Catchpole. The home of Carina Shacklebolt.

That thought came into his mind very clearly, though he wasn't sure if Bellatrix had thought it or if it was simply his mind using the extraordinary strength of his Legilimency to place her. He wrenched his eyes shut more tightly and Disapparated, coming to outside Malfoy Manor. Immediately, he pressed the tip of his wand to his Dark Mark and summoned a group.

Abraxas Malfoy, Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, Dolohov, Avery, Nott, Macnair, Mulciber, Yaxley, and Rookwood. He called them all to the gardens outside Malfoy Manor, where the autumn wind blew hard against Voldemort's robes.

One by one they appeared, and Malfoy waited until they had all assembled in a circle. He stood in the middle and stared around, and he said sharply,

"Bellatrix Black is being held captive by Dumbledore's goons. She is in Ottery St. Catchpole at the home of Carina Shacklebolt. We are going there immediately to retrieve her. Do not hesitate to kill. Get her back here to the manor. We all leave now. Let's go."

 **Author's Note: Sorry for the miniature chapter and the cliffhanger, but I'm out of town and typing on my phone. The action will definitely pick back up in the next chapter! :) And for those who said someone might use Voldemort's feelings for Bellatrix against him… yup!**


	18. Chapter 18

Wherever she was, it smelled of soup.

Bellatrix stared at the ceiling and blinked slowly. They'd sedated her. Whether with a potion or a spell, she didn't know. She couldn't remember. All she could remember now was sitting in the White Wyvern and two wizards coming up to her. They must have Imperiused her, she reckoned, because after that she lost control of herself entirely.

She'd heard someone mention that this was the home of Carina Shacklebolt, an ally of Dumbledore's whom Bellatrix knew to live in Ottery St. Catchpole near other wizarding homes. An hour ago, she'd heard Albus Dumbledore talking with Carina's nephew Kingsley Shacklebolt. There was someone else here, a wizard whose voice she didn't recognise. But that seemed to be it - Carina and Kingsley Shacklebolt, Dumbledore, and the wizard whose voice she couldn't place.

Bellatrix lay in the little cot where they'd placed her, feeling like she weighed a tonne. She couldn't move her arms and legs. Surely they'd taken her wand. She tried to sigh, but just getting breath was impossible.

 _I'm coming, Bellatrix._

She frowned, or tried to frown, at the feeling of his voice inside her mind. How was Lord Voldemort speaking to her through the ether? Or was he close by? How was he sending his voice into her mind at all? Or was it just the feel of him?

"Albus!" A frantic voice sounded breathlessly from the window. "They're here."

Who, Bellatrix wondered? Who was here?

"Let's go outside," said Albus Dumbledore. "No need to destroy your lovely house, Carina."

"There are too many of them!" The wizard that Bellatrix hadn't recognised sounded frightened as he dashed toward the door.

"Come on, Mundungus," said Kingsley Shacklebolt. "Now is no time to be a coward."

"Are you calling me a coward?" Mundungus seemed offended, but Albus Dumbledore rather barked,

"Outside, all of us. Now, if you please."

" _Stupefy!"_

Bellatrix watched blue light flash over her head, and then there was a whirlwind of light. Green and red and blue light moved like lightning through the room. Bellatrix heard the distinct sound of her master's voice then as he shouted,

"Accio Wand of Bellatrix Black!"

She wanted to thank him for retrieving her wand, but she still couldn't move. The battling continued, and then suddenly she could see Rodolphus Lestrange's face above her.

"Come on, Bella," he said gently. "We're going to the manor."

He scooped her up in her arms and Disapparated, and when they came to, they were outside the gardens of Malfoy Manor. Rodolphus set Bellatrix on the grass carefully and murmured,

" _Finite Incantatem."_

Nothing happened; she still couldn't move or speak. She stared desperately at Rodolphus, who murmured,

"You need Wideye Potion, I think. Let's get you inside and to the guest suite."

He bent to pick her up and carried her all the way into the house. Bellatrix wanted to tell him that he could have just Levitated her, and she wondered distantly if he'd lightened her weight with nonverbal magic. He didn't seem stressed or burdened by carrying her, and he moved smoothly up the steps in the manor's foyer.

"Abraxas said to bring you to this suite down here if needed," Rodolphus muttered, a bit breathlessly. He pushed a door open with his foot and took her inside, placing her down gently on the bed inside. He adjusted the pillow beneath her head, and he asked carefully,

"Can you speak at all, Bella?"

She tried to answer him, to shake her head, but she just stared. He was handsome, she thought suddenly, but she could never love him. He wasn't her master. Her eyes burned suddenly, and Rodolphus squeezed at her shoulder.

"Let me go to the Potions Stores," he said. "I think you've taken a Comatose Cocktail. I've got to fetch some Wideye Potion. I'll be right back."

He left then, and Bellatrix was staring at the ceiling for the second time today. It was dark outside, she could tell, but a lit lantern sent shadows dancing across the plaster ceiling. There was silence for a while except for the ticking clock on the mantle across the room, and then suddenly Bellatrix heard footsteps coming.

"Just me," said Rodolphus. He sat beside Bellatrix in a chair and opened the stopper on a brown glass bottle of Wideye Potion. He carefully spooned it into Bellatrix's mouth, and it tasted wretched. Bellatrix tried to swallow, and she felt Rodolphus massaging her neck to make her do it.

"They'll all be back," he told her quietly. "I've faith in that."

Bellatrix didn't care about the others; she only cared about Lord Voldemort. But she just stared at Rodolphus, trying and failing to thank him for his help.

"BELLATRIX!"

It was Voldemort, his voice ringing through the stone halls of Malfoy Manor. Rodolphus stood quickly from his chair and folded his hands before him as he called,

"Up in the guest suite, My Lord."

"Yaxley, get Travers some Dittany. Malfoy, do the same for Nott. Everyone else all right? Good. Go home, all of you, as quickly as you can."

He was getting closer, Bellatrix could hear. His voice sounded shaky, and his steps were quick in the hall outside. When he appeared in the doorway, he nodded at Rodolphus and said breathlessly,

"Thank you, Lestrange."

"I dosed her with Wideye Potion, My Lord," Rodolphus said, and Voldemort nodded again.

"Very good. Dismissed."

"Th-thank you," Bellatrix whispered, her lips finally working a little. Rodolphus turned back and looked rather emotional as he insisted to Bellatrix,

"It was nothing, truly. Be well, Bella. My Lord."

He left then, and Voldemort shut the door behind him. He sat in the chair where Rodolphus had been and laced his fingers through Bellatrix's.

"I was very worried over you," he said simply.

"The… the battle?" Her voice was sore and hoarse, for it was a monumental effort to get any sound at all. Voldemort shrugged.

"Travers and Nott took a few stray hexes. Mulciber was almost killed; dodged a Killing Curse by a hair. I tried to kill Dumbledore, but he Disapparated just before."

"Coward," Bellatrix whispered, and Voldemort smirked.

"Yes. He is a coward. We killed Carina Shacklebolt. Burnt her house to the ground. So there's that."

"Good." Bellatrix gave a minute little nod and murmured, "I'm so sorry."

"Sorry for what? You were kidnapped. Show me. Legilimens."

He rifled through her hazy memories of sitting alone in the White Wyvern, of the two wizards appearing, of green haze coming over her and them all Disapparating. He pulled out of her mind and said,

"There was nothing you could do. We're staying the night here; I won't Apparate with you just now. Not until I'm certain you're healed."

"Yes, Master." Bellatrix could move better now, and she sat up a little as she met Voldemort's eyes. He stared right at her for a long moment, then glanced back toward the door.

"He really is in love with you. But, then, so am I."

"I'm only in love with one of you," Bellatrix said quietly, "and it isn't him, Master."

Voldemort nodded and patted Bellatrix's hand.

"It's late," he said. "Let me Transfigure your clothes into a nightgown and you can sleep."

"I'm so sick of lying down," she complained. "I would dance if I could."

"Dance." Voldemort scoffed quietly and then eyed the Wizarding Wireless on the mantle. He flicked his wand at it, and then at the door, which locked with a click. Soft music started playing on the Wireless, and Voldemort said,

"Let's get those legs of yours working again, shall we?"

"My Lord…" Bellatrix smiled, letting him help her off the bed as the Wideye Potion settled fully into her veins. She was all right now; she could move and speak now. But as he drew her to the centre of the Turkish rug, she felt more breathless and was rendered more silent than ever.

He put his right hand to the small of her back and threaded their fingers together with his other hand. He touched his forehead to hers and started to rock, and he told her,

"My biggest fear was that you'd be killed. A stray curse. Unexpected cruelty from Dumbledore or an ally. I thought I'd lose you. And, do you know, that's precisely why they took you."

Bellatrix nodded. "Dumbledore looked in my head. I remember that much. He saw that I love you. He saw that you… he saw the way you feel about me. And he said to Carina Shacklebolt that if having me in jeopardy didn't persuade you, nothing ever would. It was worth a try, he said."

"He was wrong," Voldemort said firmly, still moving in a subtle dance step. Bellatrix nodded.

"He was wrong, My Lord. I know nothing would ever stop you. I know you'd never risk your movement for me."

He hesitated a moment, but then chewed his lip and pondered,

"I don't know if that's true. I brought nearly a dozen of my soldiers storming to your rescue. Nearly lost Mulciber. Wounded two others. Perhaps he wasn't so wrong. I'm afraid… Bella, I'm afraid of what I would risk for you."

Bellatrix felt a little sick then. She rested her head against his chest and murmured,

"No more visits to Knockturn Alley. I shall go where you bid me, move in the shadows. We mustn't give them the opportunity to drag you into a trap. And if they ever catch me again, I'll aim a Killing Curse at myself before they can -"

"Stop." Voldemort shook his head firmly, his feet pausing and his hands tightening on her. "I'll hear none of that, Miss Black."

Bellatrix sighed, reaching up to cup his jaws in her hands and pulling him down to kiss her. Then she mumbled against his lips,

"As you command, Master."


	19. Chapter 19

"I should like to extend my personal gratitude to all those who fought in the battle at Carina Shacklebolt's house," Voldemort said at the next meeting. He nodded and studied a fingernail as he added, "Everyone battled well, and I consider it a victory. We killed Carina Shacklebolt and retrieved Bellatrix without any deaths on our end. Well done."

Everyone was silent for a moment then, and Voldemort cleared his throat. He glanced over to Bellatrix for a moment, and she smiled a little at him, feeling very nervous.

"Dumbledore has demonstrated that he will use any means necessary to try and stop me. We will, in turn, use any means necessary to kill him."

Bellatrix gasped a little, as did others around the table. Voldemort continued calmly,

"Resistance against me is spearheaded by Dumbledore and will continue to be very problematic until he is dead. I am placing a bounty of one million Galleons on the head of Albus Dumbledore. Whenever we encounter him in battle, he knows I'll go straight for him, and he Disapparates away from my Killing Curses. So, I am telling you now. One million Galleons - a veritable fortune - to the Death Eater who kills Albus Dumbledore."

A ripple of excitement went around the table, and Voldemort waited for it to die down before he said simply,

"Dismissed."

Bellatrix glanced back at him as she left the dining room. Voldemort was swept into conversation with Mulciber and Avery, but his eyes followed Bellatrix as she left. Out in the corridor, Rodolphus Lestrange was waiting.

"Bella," Rodolphus said warmly, "I'm so glad to see you up and about. I was worried sick after seeing you during the battle."

"You're getting a little too good at rescuing me, Rodolphus," Bellatrix smiled. "Thank you… again."

"I can't stop thinking about what happened in the Common Room," Rodolphus said suddenly, and Bellatrix blinked. She shook her head, her mind suddenly flooded by memories of hands roughly touching her thighs, of fingers worming around her knickers. She stared at the rug and informed Rodolphus,

"Yes, well… I try not to think about it."

"I should have done more," Rodolphus said in a growl. Bellatrix looked up at him.

"You did plenty, Rodolphus. And you did more than enough the night of the battle. I'm grateful."

His brown eyes softened a little, and he reached with a very shaky hand to touch at Bellatrix's arm. She flinched, and he immediately pulled his hand away and mumbled,

"S-Sorry. I… I wonder if it might be possible… if you might consider that dinner we'd talked about."

"Dinner," Bellatrix repeated with a sigh. She closed her eyes and said carefully, "Rodolphus, I'm… with someone."

"Oh. You are?" He sounded genuinely surprised and genuinely hurt. Bellatrix opened her eyes and nodded, and Rodolphus frowned, looking like he might cry. "May I ask who he is?"

"Me."

Rodolphus and Bellatrix snapped their faces to the right, to where Voldemort was standing with Mulciber and Avery. The older wizards seemed uncomfortable all of a sudden, and Rodolphus' face flushed red. Voldemort seemed very calm as he tipped his head and said lightly,

"Bellatrix is with me, Lestrange. Perhaps stop asking about dinner, hm?"

"I… of course, My Lord. I didn't… I didn't know… I'm sorry, Miss Black; I didn't…"

"It's not exactly been advertised," Voldemort noted, sounding almost amused. He raised his eyebrows, looked at Bellatrix, and said in a nearly teasing tone, "I've got a few things to finish up with Mulciber and Avery. See you at home."

"Yes, My Lord." Bellatrix was dizzy with surprise at it all, and as Voldemort walked away with Mulciber and Avery, she turned to Rodolphus and shrugged a little.

"It's been a few months now. I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to reject you. You've been nothing but kind to me."

Rodolphus' eyes were wet, but he nodded and said vigorously, "The one that got away, you are. He's a lucky wizard, and not just because he's the Dark Lord. Be well, Bella."

"And you." Bellatrix nodded up at him, studying the soft features of Rodolphus' face and seeing a boy in love. She huffed a breath and whispered, "Goodbye."

* * *

"Bella?"

"I'm in the kitchen, Master."

He stalked through the house, through the smell of garlic, and he found her in the kitchen, using her wand to finish sauteing garlic and red pepper in a pan. She flicked her wand and Vanished the water from the pot of noodles, and she turned her face over her shoulder, flashing him a little smile.

"Pasta aglio e olio… is that all right, My Lord? I've got a little sponge cake done and chilling, too."

"You made dinner," Voldemort noted, stepping into the kitchen. She laughed a little and clarified,

"I'm still making it."

"They all know now," he said, "but they probably knew when you were captured by Dumbledore. I wouldn't send ten Death Eaters to rescue any of them. But you…"

"Don't worry," Bellatrix said softly, mixing the oil and garlic with the pasta, "Rodolphus knows better now."

"He is ferociously in love with you," Voldemort said. He felt jealousy roil through him, and he gulped as he added, "I looked into his mind. He was hoping that he could have a few dinners with you and then propose marriage."

"Marriage?" Bellatrix dropped her wand with a clatter and whirled around. Voldemort watched her bend to pick up her wand, and she shook her head. "That's silly."

"Is it? You're both of marriageable age, from Pureblood families of elite status. A fantastic match, and unlike in many arranged marriages, he actually wants you. It would have been perfect."

"It would have been awful," Bellatrix insisted, "because he isn't you."

"I should probably let you marry him," Voldemort mused, but Bellatrix scoffed loudly.

" _Let_ me? Make me, more like. I don't want to marry him, Master."

"Well, you can't marry me," Voldemort reminded her, and Bellatrix threw her arms up.

"Why do I have to marry anybody?"

"Because," Voldemort said patiently, "witches from Pureblood Houses - especially the Sacred Twenty-Eight - must marry young and produce…"

He trailed off then, feeling sick and horrified at the idea of Bellatrix bearing children for Rodolphus Lestrange. He shut his eyes and shook his head, and he whispered,

"No. You're mine."

"Yes, I am." Bellatrix was near him then, and he felt her hands starting to unclasp his outer robe. He tensed and opened his eyes to see her staring up at him as she sank to her knees.

"No." He shook his head and pulled her up, smirking a little. "I'm hungry. I'll take you after dinner."

"As you wish, Master." Bellatrix pressed her hands to his chest and was quiet for a moment. Voldemort sank his teeth into his bottom lip and decided to tell her the thing that had been bothering him profoundly for the last few days.

"I had hoped… hoped it would come back," he said, and when she frowned, he admitted, "I can't get hard."

Bellatrix shook her head in confusion. "But just last night, you -"

"Used my mouth on you, yes. And I didn't get hard the whole time." Voldemort felt utterly humiliated, yet it seemed like confiding in Bellatrix was something he could do. Her hands went at once to the front of his trousers, and he let her unbutton them and pull his flaccid cock out. He shut his eyes and tried to soak in the feel of her fingers on him. He pictured himself drilling her roughly in bed, her mouth around him in the shower. But nothing happened; he was completely soft.

"It's… stress, I'm sure." He gulped and shrugged a little. "Potions and spells haven't helped."

"You don't think it's got anything to do with Draining or Dumbledore's Curse on your magic, do you?" Bellatrix seemed very concerned as she tucked him away. "It isn't… I'm worried that this could be just one symptom."

"Are you some sort of Healer?" Voldemort snapped, feeling far too embarrassed now. He sniffed and ordered her, "Get the food onto plates and out to the table."

Bellatrix's eyes welled a little, but she nodded. "Yes, Master."

 **Author's Note: *long sigh of relief* Okay, I'm looking forward to picking this one back up. I had a lot more story to tell in this one! If you're along for the ride, I'm grateful you're here and would love any feedback.**


	20. Chapter 20

"It's a bit cold in here, isn't it?"

Voldemort stared at the ceiling, and from beside him, Bellatrix agreed,

"It is a little cold, Master. _Calesco._ "

"Thanks," he murmured. He folded his hands over his stomach and pondered that she was extraordinarily beautiful and that he did want her, badly. His eyes watered for some reason as he remembered the way Rodolphus Lestrange's mind had been dreaming of a life with Bellatrix, the way the young wizard had looked at her as he'd nervously brought up dinner again. Rodolphus wasn't too old for her the way Voldemort was. Rodolphus probably didn't have the bodily concerns of a middle-aged man. He was just a boy, and Bellatrix was just a girl. They were Purebloods, the both of them.

"Master?" Her voice was tentative and quiet. Voldemort silently turned his face to her, reaching to tuck her curls behind her ear. She asked him, "Is there any… any part of me that you might like to touch? Anything I could do for you?"

To get him hard, she meant. He licked his lip and shrugged a little.

"This has nothing to do with desire, Bella. You're beautiful. But you know how old I am. Much closer to forty-four than forty-three. Men my age - wizard and Muggle alike - are often afflicted with this… condition. It is natural for it to happen. I'm just surprised that potions and spells aren't working. But it's hardly as though I can march into a Healer's office and ask for treatment. I'm the Dark Lord."

Bellatrix reached for him beneath the blankets. He resisted the urge to push her hand away in his mortification. He stared at the little swell of her breasts, at her lovely eyes, and he set his mind to fucking her. But it was no use. He was small and soft in her hand, and he finally shook his head a little. Bellatrix pulled her hand away and noted tentatively,

"The first time I ever Imperiused you, when we were practising for the Draining, you came right when I told you to."

"Yes," Voldemort agreed, his mind coming alive a little. "That's not something that normally happens on demand, but I did finish straight away when you commanded it."

Bellatrix pulled her teeth over her bottom lip and nervously reached for her wand, sitting up slowly.

"Master," she whispered, "may I try?"

Voldemort huffed a little and nodded. "Just to see if it's physically possible. All right."

He steeled himself for her spell, ready to absorb it and soak in her control. He watched her sit up straight and aim her wand at him, and she said very seriously,

" _Imperio._ "

Green smoke washed over Voldemort, and he breathed it in like it was a drug. A little buzz in his mind told him Bellatrix was in there, that she was in charge now. He shifted a little where he lay as she silently willed him hard. It was uncomfortable, for some reason.

"Get hard for me," Bellatrix said heavily. "My Lord. Make the blood rush to your cock. Get it hard."

"I'm… I'm trying." The words came out before Voldemort could stop them. A sudden, awful thought entered his mind - that if he was going to be an impotent old man and she was going to be a beautiful young woman, she should be with someone else. His breath hitched and his gut clenched at that idea, and he shook his head as he reached for his pyjama trousers. He shoved his hand beneath the waistband and tried desperately to stimulate himself. He studied Bellatrix's chest, her little waist, her pretty curls and face. Nothing.

"Please stop this," he whispered, and Bellatrix nodded.

" _Finite Incantatem._ "

Voldemort ripped his hand from his trousers and shut his eyes as Bellatrix lay back down. He waited for a while and then said with his eyes closed,

"He is very much in love with you, and if you wait, he will marry someone else. Then you'll have to marry someone who does not love you, and I want better for you than that."

"Rodolphus?" Bellatrix sounded wounded. "Master, I… I just don't want to get married. I'm yours. I'm your servant, your soldier, your… I'm here, with you, in Cornwall. I don't want a husband."

"You are a member of the House of Black," Voldemort said sharply, "and my movement depends upon Pureblood traditions being maintained. I can not marry you. You must marry within the Sacred Twenty-Eight. I will not allow any of the boys who hurt you, nor any other old wizard, to take you away from me. At least he loves you."

"Please." Bellatrix's voice broke a little beside him, but Voldemort took a shaking breath and told her,

"Go to Veles. Send Rodolphus Lestrange a letter. You'll be having dinner with him tomorrow at Castle Lestrange."

"Please," Bellatrix whispered again, but Voldemort wrenched his eyes shut and hissed,

"Go. Send the owl. Sleep in the blue bedroom."

There was quiet except for her trembling breath, and then finally he felt her move off of the bed. She sounded almost angry then as she informed him,

"I would gladly be yours, absent any marriage, regardless of the state of your… your genitals, Master. I only want you. I love you."

"Goodnight, Bellatrix." Voldemort rolled away from her and pulled the blankets up a little, and he heard her murmur,

"Goodnight, My Lord."

* * *

"Bella. Welcome to Castle Lestrange." Rodolphus smiled as the House-Elf brought Bellatrix into the small but elegantly appointed dining room. He shooed the House-Elf away, and Bellatrix tugged at her caped, short black dress a little. She'd worn high heels and a low neckline. She'd put on heavy makeup. So she wasn't entirely surprised when Rodolphus said nervously, "You look lovely."

"Thanks. Erm… thank you for having me," Bellatrix said, feeling sick. She cleared her throat a little and followed Rodolphus to a chair, which he pulled out for her. She sat, and he moved to sit opposite her. Food appeared on the plates - grilled salmon and roast potato and haricots verts. Rodolphus waited for Bellatrix to take a bite of food and a sip of white wine, and he finally admitted,

"I'm so glad you've come, but I must admit, I was… surprised… to receive your owl. The Dark Lord seemed to make it quite clear that you and he were… well, together. Exclusively."

"He needs to be alone right now." Bellatrix stared at her salmon and swallowed hard. Rodolphus seemed to take the cue not to ask any more about the matter, and their conversation focused on memories from school and notes on the ancient Lestrange estate. Bellatrix ate her trifle in silence as Rodolphus said anxiously,

"I quite like being a Death Eater. I like battle. That's probably an awful thing to think, but…"

"No." Bellatrix picked up her after-dinner mint and sucked on it as it dissolved in her mouth. She raised her eyes to study Rodolphus' soft, gentle face, and she told him, "I like battle, too. It's not only Gryffindors who are brave."

"So far, I've found them rather cowardly," Rodolphus smirked. He popped his own mint into his mouth, and after it dissolved, he said, "I watched Albus Dumbledore flee from that battle like a complete child. I'd kill him if I got the chance, with or without the bounty. I just want to see him dead, to bring his wand as a trophy to the Dark Lord."

"That would be an act of supreme bravery, I think," Bellatrix nodded. She thought of Voldemort, of how cold and distant he'd been all day, and she shut her eyes for a moment. Could she be happy with Rodolphus Lestrange? Could she be happy here, in this castle?

"I should probably go back… home…" Bellatrix opened her eyes and felt more confused than ever. Her lip shook a little as she stood, and Rodolphus flew to his feet. He came walking quickly around the table and gave her an understanding sort of look.

"I'm not an idiot," he told her. "I know that I'd be your second choice by far. You don't even want to choose. I can tell. But there are… there are things expected of us. Of people who come from our background. I promise you, Bella… I would be gentle and kind to you."

"You're in love with me," Bellatrix said firmly. Rodolphus' mouth fell open, but Bellatrix told him, "The Dark Lord saw it with Legilimency. He could tell. He knows that you love me."

"I…" Rodolphus' eyes welled a little, and he shrugged. "I feel strongly about you."

He would be gentle and kind, Bellatrix thought. Was that what she wanted, if she couldn't have Lord Voldemort? She swallowed hard and reached up to seize Rodolphus' face.

"Kiss me," she whispered, and Rodolphus' hands went hesitantly to her waist. He took a step toward her and lowered his face. Bellatrix wrenched him down against her, thrusting her tongue up between his lips. Rodolphus grunted in surprise, and suddenly Bellatrix was following him down onto her dining chair. She straddled his waist and kept kissing him, tasting mint on his clumsy tongue.

He started to go hard beneath her, so she began grinding her hips onto him. He gasped, and she moved her mouth to his neck. Rodolphus rubbed at her back and said breathlessly,

"Bella… oh. Oh, Bella…"

"You've wanted this," she noted, and he nodded frantically. She kissed his round, soft cheek and caressed his short, thick hair. She circled her hips down against him, and Rodolphus tipped his head back and let out a desperate noise, his fingers cinching on Bellatrix's back. She watched his eyes shut, listened to his rickety breath, and she realised he was coming.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, his cheeks flushed pink. Bellatrix brushed her lips against his neck and murmured,

"No. It's all right. You liked it. Nothing wrong with that."

"Can I… Can I just…" Rodolphus reached for his wand, and Bellatrix quickly scrambled off of him. He turned away a little, aimed his wand at his trousers, and mumbled, " _Tergeo. Scourgify._ "

Bellatrix chewed hard at her lip and started to cry. She shook her head where she stood. Rodolphus would be gentle and kind, but that wasn't what she wanted. She wanted Lord Voldemort. Even if she couldn't have Voldemort, she didn't want Rodolphus Lestrange.

"I can't do this," she whispered. Rodolphus stood from the chair and nodded sadly.

"I… I don't want you to feel any pressure, Bella. Thank you for coming for dinner."

"I need to go." Bellatrix swiped roughly at her eyes, and she started to walk quickly out of the dining room. "I need to go back to him."

"Bella?"

She whirled around to see Rodolphus in the corridor. He just nodded at her and said very kindly,

"There are many reasons I feel the way I do about you. One of them is that you know what you want and you get it. I just want you to be happy, whether that has anything to do with me or not. Please let the Dark Lord know that I fully understand. That I won't pursue you if you don't want it."

Bellatrix nodded and tipped her chin up. "Thanks for dinner, Rodolphus. Goodnight."

Then she Disapparated from where she stood, coming to in the parlour of the house in Cornwall. It was dark, and as she walked through the house, she could hear waves. It was chilly, too, and she could feel the breeze blowing through the house. She walked toward the door that led to the decking, seeing that a few lanterns had been lit outside.

He was there. Lord Voldemort was leaning against the rail, staring out at the churning black sea. Bellatrix felt her stomach flop, and she carefully made her way out the open door and stood a little ways away from Voldemort near the railing. He kept his eyes trained forward and asked blandly,

"How was dinner?"

"I don't much like salmon," Bellatrix replied. She felt nauseated all of a sudden, and her eyes burned like mad. She started to cry again, feeling stupid for doing so. She swiped her tight sleeve at her eyes, wondering if she had eyeliner all over her face.

"I can feel the throb of sex in your mind," Voldemort said, and Bellatrix shook her head.

"No. Not quite. He came in his trousers."

Voldemort looked completely disgusted, his back heaving a little. He shook his head and said quietly,

"You kissed him."

"Yes." Bellatrix approached Voldemort and said quite firmly, "Unless you order me to do it, I will not marry him, My Lord. He is a good man. He does love me. But I can't… I would so much rather be alone. I understand that I can't -"

"Marry me," he finished, and Bellatrix nodded.

"Right. I understand that that will never happen, but I -"

"Marry me," Voldemort said again, finally turning his eyes from the sea. Bellatrix froze, her chest going tight and her stomach churning with confusion. She shook her head a little and whispered,

"I don't understand, Master."

"It… it wouldn't be for some time," he said, looking pale and tired all of a sudden. "I need to achieve my full power before I can be a married wizard. But I fail to see how there could be… a better match for you…"

He shut his eyes and started to pace on the deck a little, sounding anxious and frantic as he said in a low, quick voice,

"It's only been a matter of months since we first came here and you helped me through the ordeal of not having magic. It hasn't been long enough, probably, for me to fall in love with you. But I didn't know I could love anybody until it was too late, until I already loved you. And I nearly vomited tonight, thinking about you with that boy. Heartache always seemed like a fantasy, like an idea drummed up by romantics to excuse their silliness. But my heart ached very badly tonight, Bellatrix. It would need to be a while from now. I am too old for you, I know. I'll fix the impotence issue. I promise. I know I'm too old, that you'll have to wait, but I… I cannot fathom any alternative."

Bellatrix leaned onto the railing for support as he stopped rambling and finally turned face her. He shook his head and pleaded,

"Don't make me get onto a knee."

"I don't care if I have to wait twenty-five years to do it," Bellatrix informed him confidently. "Marrying you would be the greatest accomplishment in my entire life."

He approached her then, aiming his wand at her. " _Scourgify. Scourgify Trio._ "

He was cleaning Rodolphus off of her, she knew. She let him do it, let him cleanse her with his magic until every trace of Rodolphus' kisses were gone. Voldemort took her face in his hands, the length of his wand pressed against her cheek, and he whispered,

"It almost broke me. Thinking of you marrying him… anyone else. I need you to wait, and I can't put a pretty ring on your finger, but I… I do need you to marry me."

"Yes, Master." Bellatrix let her tears flow freely then, and when he kissed her, she reached on instinct for the front of his trousers. As their kiss deepened, Voldemort's breath quickened in his nostrils and his voice buzzed low against Bellatrix's mouth. She gasped when she felt him start to harden beneath her touch, and then he ripped his mouth from hers and muttered,

"It's cold out here. Upstairs. Now."

 **Author's Note: If you're like me and thoroughly enjoy possessive/emotional Voldemort, raise your hand! If you want to see Voldemort try and overcome his impotence in a juicy lil lemon, raise your other hand!**


	21. Chapter 21

"Bella…"

Voldemort stumbled backward into the bedroom as she pushed at his chest a little. She'd never been like this, not ever. His mind flared with an image of her making Rodolphus Lestrange come in his trousers, but he thrust the thought away and reminded himself that she was going to marry him someday. Right now, for some bizarre reason, it felt good to have her push at him a little.

"More," he murmured, and her eyes blazed. She shoved roughly at his chest then, and Voldemort felt blood flush straight into his cock. His mouth fell open a little, and he started to tear at his robes. The clasps were stubborn in his shaking fingers, and finally Bellatrix aimed her wand at him and nonverbally Vanished all of his clothes.

He was shocked. She had never done anything like that, not ever, and he said breathlessly,

"Those robes were expensive."

"I've got a lot of gold in my vault at Gringotts, Master," Bellatrix said unapologetically. "I shall have new ones made."

"Bellatrix." Voldemort's voice was airy and weak as he watched her quickly strip off her caped dress, bra and knickers, and high-heeled shoes. She stood before him, naked and beautiful, and his cock was suddenly throbbing with arousal. She stared right at it, her cheeks going pink, and she whispered,

"Tell me what you want… Master."

"I need you to be rough," he said, not sure of why he wanted that at all. He'd always been the dominant one, the elder statesman showing his virginal young lover just how things were done. But he'd been impotent lately, and she had him hard, and he liked the feel of her pushing him tonight. Bellatrix just nodded and set her wand down on the side table where the lamp was. She stalked up to Voldemort, stared up at his eyes, and then slapped him.

He was utterly bereft of breath for a moment. His cheek seared like fire, but it still wasn't enough. He licked his bottom lip and whispered,

"Harder."

She hesitated, staring at her fingers for a moment, but then she steeled herself and whacked his jaw so hard that his teeth clacked together on the inside of his cheek. He tasted blood in his mouth, and when he touched his knuckles to his lips, Bellatrix's eyes went round as saucers.

"I'm sorry," she said hurriedly, but he shook his head. He reached for her hand and brought it to his cock, and he swallowed a mouthful of blood as he shut his eyes. He wanted her to push him to the bed, but he wasn't sure how to ask for a thing like that. He sucked the last of the blood from his cheek before the bleeding stopped, and he relished the iron tang of it. His jaw ached terribly, but somehow it felt good to hurt.

"Bite… bite my shoulder," he said impulsively, and Bellatrix's hand froze on his shaft. She looked nervous and scared for a moment, but then she nodded and stared up at him, sinking her teeth against the place where his shoulder met his bicep. Voldemort hissed in pain, then in pleasure as Bellatrix raked her fingernails roughly down his back.

He was about to come all over her hand. He could tell. This was too much; it felt too good. He snatched her wrists and yanked her over to the bed, tossing her up onto the blankets. She landed with an _oof_ and crawled backward a little. Voldemort flipped her mercilessly onto her stomach and wrenched her to the edge of the bed. He shoved her legs apart and touched the tip of his cock between her legs. For a moment, he just stared. He observed the curve of her backside, the look of her parts, young and tight and eager. He pushed into her womanhood and touched the pad of his thumb to her other hole, caressing a little. She moaned against the blankets, and Voldemort knew he wouldn't last a minute like this. He sank into her and just held it. He breathed her in, pressing his thumb against the place that was forbidden and taboo. He finally pumped his hips a few times, stopping again after a moment.

She was tight and warm, and his shoulder had visible tooth marks. His back burned from her fingernails. His mouth was torn up and his jaw hurt from where she'd hit him. And it all combined to make him come, having hardly done anything at all to her. He held onto her hips as he lost himself. He didn't apologise; she would know that this was a victory for both of them.

By the time that the ringing in his ears had stopped and the blur in his vision had gone away, he was softening rapidly and slipped out of her. He watched a stream of his come trail down her thigh, and he murmured,

"I just needed to know… I needed assurance that you… I've been anxious."

She rolled over onto her back, panting and looking like she was still profoundly aroused. He would attend to her in a moment, he told himself. As soon as he caught his breath. Bellatrix stared up at him and said very seriously,

"I will wait as long as I must wait, Master, and then I will marry you. _You_."

He just nodded, bringing his fingers to her clit and not caring that he was playing in the mess he'd made.

* * *

"Lestrange. Do come in."

Voldemort gestured to the chair opposite him. Rodolphus Lestrange looked younger than ever today, a gangly yet soft child playing dress-up with his father's robes. Rodolphus sat, folding his hands on one thigh, and Voldemort said simply,

"I need to you to go do some work on the Continent for a little while."

"You're sending me away, Master," Rodolphus nodded. His cheeks coloured, and he said carefully, "I do hope I haven't caused any offence."

"Well, it's hardly your fault for falling in love with her," Voldemort said. "I can't say as I blame you."

Rodolphus shut his eyes, and Voldemort peered into his mind with Legilimency. He was suddenly hit with a vivid memory, the smell and taste and feel of Bellatrix atop Rodolphus. She was kissing his neck, grinding down against him. Voldemort clenched a fist tightly beneath his desk, his knuckles cracking in anger. But then Rodolphus' memory continued on, and Bellatrix explained that she couldn't be with Rodolphus. She was crying. She was leaving. Rodolphus was telling her that he wouldn't pursue her, but his heart was shattered. After Bellatrix had left, Rodolphus had been left with silent tears running down his cheeks. He'd wanted her, as a wife and a companion. He was expected to marry, and he'd wanted Bellatrix. He loved her.

Voldemort cleared his throat and gently pulled out of Rodolphus' mind. The boy looked profoundly embarrassed, but Voldemort shrugged and said again,

"I don't blame you one bit. And because I think it merciful to do so, I shall tell you something now that must stay in confidence. When the time is right, Bellatrix will marry me."

Rodolphus looked shocked, then devastated. He finally steeled himself and forced a single cracked word from his lips.

"Congratulations."

"Thank you." Voldemort nodded and drummed his fingers on his desk. "You and Antonin Dolohov will spend the next few months recruiting political and financial support on the Continent. Coordinate with him on the matter. I think perhaps some distance - both in time and space - is in order."

"I understand, My Lord." Rodolphus looked uncomfortable again then, and Voldemort waved his hand a little.

"Dismissed."

Rodolphus stood, and suddenly Voldemort felt compelled to say in a rough, cruel voice,

"She would never have loved you. She couldn't have. You would have never been enough for her. You're entirely too ordinary."

Rodolphus' brown eyes watered, and he nodded again. His voice was a weak little crackle as he said, "Yes, Master."

"Find someone new to marry," Voldemort insisted. "A Pureblood witch on the Continent. Someone here when you get back. I want you wed by the new year. Understood?"

Rodolphus nodded quickly. "Yes, My Lord. Thank you."

He left then, his feet pattering quickly on the office rug as he made his way out of the room. Voldemort gnawed hard on his lip and pulled out a blank sheet of parchment, deciding to finish up the rest of the day's business without giving Rodolphus Lestrange another thought.

 **Author's Note: Oh, Rodolphus… he's annoying, but you gotta pity him just a little, right? And at least Voldemort figured out how to make his man parts work again. Haha. In the next chapter, we're going to find out just what happens when you place a Million Galleon Bounty on the head of Albus Dumbledore… *cue dramatic music* Let's just say that things get a little messy when you dangle the carrot of money in front of incompetent wizards. Hmm. Thanks as always for reading and please do leave a review if you get just a moment. The feedback is valued more than I can say.**


	22. Chapter 22

Bellatrix trembled with anticipation where she sat at the meeting table. Everyone around her seemed terrified, too. They'd all been Summoned here, but Voldemort was absent. Abraxas Malfoy had said that their master would be here soon. Bellatrix knew nothing more than anyone else - nothing except for the fact that Silas Travers was currently in Ministry custody.

"Stand up!" Voldemort barked as he came charging into the dining room. Everyone flew to their feet, and Bellatrix staggered a little as she took in just how angry Voldemort seemed. When he reached his chair, he glared at the elder Travers, who was white as chalk.

"I castrated your son because he stuck his fingers into a witch's knickers without permission," Voldemort hissed. Travers nodded silently, but Voldemort continued, "Now Silas - whom I commanded to never enter my sight again - has been captured by the Ministry after attempting to break into Hogwarts. I wonder why he was there."

Everyone shifted on their feet and looked at one another in silence. Travers said nothing, and Voldemort said in a deathly sort of voice,

"Everyone but Travers… sit down."

Bellatrix sat, eyeing Abraxas Malfoy, who seemed to think death was about to befall his manor. He was probably right, Bellatrix considered. Voldemort and Travers were the only two left standing, and Voldemort demanded,

"Did you tell Silas about the bounty, Travers?"

"I… I mentioned it at dinner with my wife, my son, and my young daughter, Master," Travers admitted. "I said I might try for it, in battle if nothing else. If Silas attempted anything, I -"

"Your opportunities to make excuses for your miserable offspring have expired, Travers. _Avada Kedavra!_ "

There was a bright flash of green light, and Travers collapsed. His head smacked hard against the table, and then he slumped onto the rug, dead. Voldemort tucked his wand away smoothly and sniffed a little. He waited for the shock around the table to simmer for a moment, and then he said in a tone of lethal calm,

"Silas Travers went to Hogsmeade and walked up to the gates of Hogwarts, where he very foolishly attempted to break through the myriad protections and wards. This, of course, alerted Albus Dumbledore, who swiftly captured Silas and brought Ministry officials to the school. Silas Travers was interrogated before being ushered off to Azkaban. Yaxley."

Yaxley sat up straight and nodded. "My Lord."

"You are the one who made me aware of all this. You have my gratitude," Voldemort said. "Do tell us… what did Silas Travers reveal to his Ministry interrogators?"

Yaxley took a deep breath and then said, "He informed them that Lord V… Lord… that _you_ , Master, had issued a bounty on the head of Albus Dumbledore. One million Galleons. He said he was trying to get the money himself."

"Amusing," Voldemort said dryly, "considering that, even if the brainless idiot had managed to kill Dumbledore, I never would have given him a solitary Sickle. That boy has been a lousy, thuggish criminal since his school days. Now he's in Azkaban. All we can hope is that the Dementor's Kiss is administered quickly. Nott, Avery."

The two Death Eaters snapped to attention, and Voldemort instructed them,

"Take Travers' body to his wife. I'm sure she's upset about her son already, but… well. Apples falling from trees and all that."

Avery and Nott hurried over to the place where Travers had slumped. They Levitated his body with their wands and hurried out of the meeting room. Voldemort drummed his fingers on the back of his chair and sighed.

"Who else has informed family members or friends about the bounty?"

A few hands went up tentatively - Rookwood's, Mulciber's, and Malfoy's. Voldemort looked curiously at Abraxas Malfoy, and then he tipped his head. He was using Legilimency, Bellatrix could tell. Finally Voldemort noted,

"Lucius is inside the school. He's how old?"

Malfoy cleared his throat a little. "He is… he is fifteen, Master."

Voldemort smirked. "I did some wretched things around that age, didn't I, Abraxas?"

Bellatrix looked to Malfoy in shock. She'd never heard her master discuss his past like this, let alone by calling an old schoolmate by his first name. Malfoy hesitated, and Voldemort continued,

"Do you remember Myrtle Warren? I was just sixteen when Myrtle… died."

"Moaning Myrtle?" Bellatrix blurted, and Voldemort looked suddenly amused.

"What?"

Bellatrix's cheeks went hot. She glanced around, realising that most of the Death Eaters were Voldemort's age or older. Only a few seemed to know what she was talking about. Bellatrix gulped and said simply,

"We called her Moaning Myrtle. A girl with pigtails and glasses. Haunts a girls' toilet at Hogwarts."

"Hmm." Voldemort couldn't help but laugh a little, it seemed. He nodded and told Bellatrix, "I killed that girl when I was sixteen. Or… a boy named Tom Riddle did. Many at this table remember the chaos after Myrtle died. They may not have known until now that it was me. Some of you helped me cover it all up. It is astonishing how well a murder can be concealed… for so many years."

He turned his face to Malfoy and said seriously,

"Your family has already served me well, you most of all, Abraxas. You were, as I recall, the very first to call yourself a Knight of Walpurgis. Do you remember?"

Malfoy nodded vigorously. "It was… it was Avery and I, and then Rivinius Lestrange, Master."

"Yes. Poor Rivinius. The first of my Death Eaters to go to Azkaban, and hopefully the last." Voldemort sighed wistfully and told Malfoy, "Your son could serve me very well now. He could earn the bounty, along with my everlasting gratitude and favour. He could kill Albus Dumbledore."

Malfoy nodded. "I told him about the money, Master, only because it signaled to me how important Dumbledore's death is. Our family would gladly pass over any monetary reward to do your bidding."

He was only saying that because the Malfoy family was already filthy rich, Bellatrix knew, and because he was afraid. But Voldemort seemed pleased. He looked around the table and said firmly,

"Silas Travers was a moronic boil of the face of the Pureblood movement. Incompetent attempts to achieve the bounty will be met with my rage. Look what's happened to poor Travers today; he'll be underground by tomorrow. Meanwhile, Silas is in Azkaban. Lucius Malfoy will attempt to kill Dumbledore from inside Hogwarts. Those of you with school-aged offspring… write discreetly to them, telling them to meet with Lucius."

He cracked his neck and jaw and seemed supremely relaxed as he said,

"Dumbledore will be on guard now. This assassination should happen from within Hogwarts. The bounty stands. Bring me the wand of Albus Dumbledore, and a million Galleons are yours. Malfoy, if your son manages this feat, I shall make him a Death Eater straight away."

Malfoy looked at once terrified and elated, and he nodded. Voldemort put his hands up casually and said,

"Dismissed."

Bellatrix waited for the room to clear out, and once everyone had gone, she asked Voldemort seriously,

"Did you know when you walked into this room that you would kill Travers?"

"I knew an hour ago that I would kill Travers," Voldemort replied sharply. Bellatrix hesitated, and Voldemort snapped, "It's nothing to do with the incident that… the…"

He trailed off and licked his bottom lip. He stepped up to Bellatrix and shut his eyes.

"Silas Travers gave the Ministry sensitive information that imperiled our quest to kill Dumbledore. His father goaded him straight into it. I could see it in Travers' head. He encouraged his son to go after the bounty. And… yes, I find myself… very happy. I am very happy that that boy is in Azkaban. I hope they suck whatever hideous shred of a soul he's got right out of his mouth."

Bellatrix's eyes seared, and she assured him, "My Lord, it really was not all that serious of a -"

" _Legilimens._ " Voldemort flicked his eyes up to Bellatrix, and she gasped as he yanked out the memory of the assault.

' _Let me have a go at her, Nero. Don't worry, Bella; I'll get your wand back for you. Just let me have a little taste.'_

' _You're all drunk! Give me my bloody wand!' Bellatrix yelled, but Nero Selwyn shoved her straight into the lap of Silas Travers. She tried to stand up, but Silas yanked her back with strong arms. She felt her breath catch from the force of his grip, and she watched as Maximus Malfoy smirked and played with her wand._

' _Crooked, odd sort of thing, isn't it?' Maximus pondered, studying the wand. He tried to twirl it but dropped it, sending purple sparks flying. The boys all laughed, and Maximus nearly toppled over when he bent to pick up the wand._

 _Suddenly Silas Travers had one of Bellatrix's breasts clutched so hard in his big hand that she yelped in pain. His other hand trailed up beneath her skirt, his fingers worming beneath her knickers. Bellatrix tried to bite him, to kick him, but Silas held fast._

' _Get your filthy hands off me, Silas!' Bellatrix cried, reaching for her wand. Silas moaned a little, rock hard beneath Bellatrix's backside, and he said rather happily,_

' _Nobody ever told me your tits were so soft, Bellatrix.'_

"STOP!" Bellatrix clutched at her head, and Voldemort yanked himself out of her memories. When she looked at him, his dark eyes were glimmering, and his breath came hard and fast through his nostrils.

"I'm going to kill them," he nodded. "Those other boys. Nero Selwyn. The Shacklebolt boy. Maximus Malfoy. I'm going to kill all of them."

"Maximus and Nero are seventh-years now," Bellatrix panted, shaking her head. "Please, Master. I just want to pretend it never -"

"But it did happen," Voldemort snarled, "and there consequences for things like that when they happen. You are mine, and therefore I am entitled to justice. Far more importantly, _you_ are entitled to justice. Do you want mercy for those boys, or do you want them dead?"

Bellatrix shut her eyes and spoke honestly. "I do not want mercy for them."

"You want them dead," Voldemort said, and Bellatrix nodded with her eyes shut. Voldemort sniffed a little and said,

"The next Hogsmeade trip of the year, I'll have them captured. Nero Selwyn and Maximus Malfoy. I'm not sure how to get the Shacklebolt boy; he's already an enemy. But Nero and Maximus will be captured; I'll have Lucius Malfoy lead them to Nott and Avery. And I will bring them to you, and you may decide whether you cast the Killing Curses or I do."

Bellatrix opened her mouth, feeling breathless all of a sudden.

"I want to watch you kill them," she said, "after I give them five minutes each of a Cruciatus Curse."

Voldemort nodded, taking Bellatrix's face in his hands. His features softened considerably. The vicious leader who had murdered a man was gone, suddenly replaced by the wizard Bellatrix had gotten to know when he'd been bereft of magic. He bent to kiss her, his lips soft and gentle. One hand went to the small of her back, and then his mouth was beside his ear as he told her,

"I love you. I love you so much that I would burn cities to the ground for you. I would drain oceans for you. So, please, Bella, let me punish the boys that hurt you. Because I love you."

She nodded, tucking her face against the front of his robes. She breathed him in and asked in a murmur,

"Do you remember the moment that Dumbledore sapped your magic and sent you to Cornwall? I grabbed your arm. I was ready to die. I tried to take the Curse; I thought he was going to kill you."

"Whilst I appreciate the loyalty more than you know," Voldemort said from above her, "he wouldn't have been able to kill me."

Bellatrix frowned and raised her eyes. "Why not?"

Voldemort blinked a few times and looked abruptly nervous. Then he nodded, seemingly with determination, and said,

"Right. If you're going to marry me, then there's… there's something you should know. Something we should discuss."

Bellatrix felt anxious then, especially when Voldemort said,

"Let's go home and talk about it there."

 **Author's Note: Uh-oh. Time for the Horcrux talk. But will he want Bellatrix to have a Horcrux in this storyverse, or not? Hmm… Oh, and raise your hand if you're excited to see Bellatrix torture the boys who groped her before Voldemort kills them! Raise your other hand if you enjoyed Voldemort in He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named Mode!**


	23. Chapter 23

"A… a Horcrux," Bellatrix said in disbelief. She shook her head and swigged from her glass of red wine. "I've never even heard of such a thing."

"Neither had I. That's why I asked Horace Slughorn about them," Voldemort said, sipping far more casually from his own tumbler of firewhisky. He shrugged a little and informed Bellatrix, "An ordinary death was not something I was willing to accept. The only problem is… it became somewhat addictive, creating them. I knew I wanted more than one. I wanted a little collection of them. I wanted to be…"

"Immortal," Bellatrix finished for him, and he nodded. She was still so confused. Would he keep aging indefinitely? If he did take a Killing Curse, how would he come back to life, as it were?

"I'm not actually very certain about what it looks like in practise to utilise a Horcrux," Voldemort said carefully, sipping his drink again. "I'd prefer not to find out. I was far more handsome before I made them. It degrades the body, I think. It's part of why I stopped… my reflection began to frighten me a bit."

"You're very handsome now, Master," Bellatrix said, but Voldemort smirked a little. He rose and moved across the dining room to the cabinet in the corner. He aimed his wand at the drawer in the cabinet and unlocked it, and then he rifled through some parchments and photographs, finally pulling out a trio of pictures. He closed the drawer and brought the photographs back to the table, passing them over.

Bellatrix's mouth fell open as she studied the first photograph. In it, a boy with wavy dark hair and piercing eyes showed off his Head Boy badge and his Slytherin robes. His winning smile gave him away. It was Voldemort - or, rather, Tom Riddle. Bellatrix dragged her fingertips over the photograph and murmured,

"You were Head Boy."

"I was. You were not Head Girl," he teased, and Bellatrix shook her head as she whispered,

"A stuck up Ravenclaw Mudblood got the position. You were… you were very handsome then, too."

He let out a low rumble of a laugh and said, "The next one was taken a decade later. You can see the difference. I'm sure you can guess what happened in between."

Bellatrix flipped to the second photograph. The young wizard in the image was still very handsome, but his hair was dull and straight. His face was a little sunken. His eyes had dulled a bit. He was still almost unfathomably good-looking, but he'd aged very rapidly from the Head Boy in the first image.

Bellatrix picked up the third photograph, which had ink writing in the bottom margin - _Christmas 1965._ Lord Voldemort stood with Abraxas Malfoy and a younger Lucius, posing for a photo. Voldemort looked much older than Abraxas Malfoy in this image, though Bellatrix intellectually knew they were the same age. He'd been about to turn thirty-nine in this image, Bellatrix knew, but he looked as he did today, with wrinkles and bags round his tired eyes. His hair had begun to thin, and his neck and cheeks looked angular and gaunt. Bellatrix sighed and set down the pictures. She finished off her red wine in three big gulps and asked,

"How many of them have you got, Master?"

"Five," he answered immediately. Bellatrix felt her eyes go wide as Voldemort explained, "The first was made when I was still in school. I used my diary - a childish choice, but it worked. Myrtle Warren helped me with that one."

"You have to kill someone each time?" Bellatrix asked, and he nodded.

"I killed my father and grandparents for the next one." He waited as Bellatrix shakily poured herself more wine, and he said smoothly, "They were Muggles."

Bellatrix almost dropped her wine glass then. Voldemort pinched his lips and shrugged.

" _Riddle_ isn't a wizarding surname. You knew that, though. You've suspected I was a Half-Blood or worse."

She shook her head and insisted honestly, "I've never considered your blood status, Master."

"My mother was a member of the House of Gaunt," he said rather haughtily, "though, by the time she came into the world, they were wretched and inbred. My mother Merope was treated terribly by her father and brother. She died when I was born. I was left alone and unwanted at a Muggle orphanage in London. That's where I grew up."

Bellatrix felt ill all of a sudden. She picked up the photograph of the smiling Head Boy, and she asked weakly,

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because," he said rather firmly, "you have kept my secrets in a way no one else would do. I trust you, Bellatrix, and I've never trusted anyone. I mean to make you my wife; you should know who I am."

She raised her wet eyes to him and said softly, "You're Lord Voldemort."

"I am now," he nodded. He sipped rather deeply from his firewhisky and said, "There was the Horcrux that I made using a cup that had belonged to Helga Hufflepuff. I weasled it out of the hands of a witch who collected expensive heirlooms, and I killed her to get the cup. I killed a Muggle to make a Horcrux out of the locket of Salazar Slytherin. I am his descendant, you see. His heir. It's how I was able to open the Chamber of Secrets and kill Myrtle Warren with the Basilisk; I'm a Parselmouth, so I can…"

He trailed off then, for he could see that Bellatrix was completely overwhelmed. He finished off his firewhisky and sighed. He folded his hands on the table and said very calmly,

"Let me begin again. I was born on the thirty-first of December, 1926, to Merope Gaunt. She had fallen in love with a wealthy Muggle man and coerced him with magic into marriage. I was born of that union, but when she released her hold on the Muggle - Tom Riddle - he abandoned her. Merope Gaunt died, leaving me to be raised in a Muggle orphanage. I always knew I was special. Different. Albus Dumbledore came one day and informed me that I was a wizard, that I was to attend a school called Hogwarts. I did, and I did exceptionally well there."

Bellatrix drank more wine, glancing down at the photograph of the handsome young Head Boy. He was right around her age in that photograph, which was interesting to see. She listened as Voldemort said,

"In Slytherin, I gathered a gang of followers. I learnt about Horcruxes. When I was at school, I used my Parseltongue and my heritage to open the Chamber of Secrets and unleash Salazar Slytherin's basilisk. It killed Myrtle Warren, and the school nearly closed. I made the first Horcrux after that, using my diary. Once I knew the truth about my Muggle father, I killed him and his parents in their home. I made another Horcrux then."

Bellatrix nodded, trying desperately to follow along. She sipped deeply from her wine, her hands shaking badly. She set down the glass and pushed her curls from her eyes, trying to stay calm. Voldemort poured himself a little more firewhisky and drank it slowly, and he continued,

"After school, I worked at Borgin and Burkes, which surprised the people who were sure I'd wind up Minister for Magic. One client, Hepzibah Smith, was easily cajoled into letting me see all her treasures. I used Hufflepuff's cup and Slytherin's locket for Horcruxes, killing Smith and framing her House-Elf and killing a spare Muggle for the other. I went underground after that. I traveled Europe, gaining expertise with Necromancy and other Dark Arts. I made my last Horcrux in Albania, using a diadem that had belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw. I returned to England, fully cemented as Lord Voldemort, and called up my old gang. They were eager to follow me; they knew I'd be powerful and they wanted a bit of the glory. Abraxas Malfoy was by far the most eager, particularly when it came to funding. You know the rest."

Bellatrix gulped hard and studied his face. She tried to see that life story in his eyes, but she was so shocked by it that all she could do was ask,

"Were you ever married?"

Half his mouth quirked up, and he shook his head. "No."

"And you'll never die," she said, "because you've got five Horcruxes."

He hesitated, then admitted, "Well, I'm not sure how it… I made them for a reason. I do not intend to go down the way Travers did. Put it that way."

"And what about me?" Bellatrix asked, emboldened by all the wine. Voldemort seemed surprised for a moment, and then he said,

"I'd never in a million years put you through it."

"What, making a Horcrux?" Bellatrix felt properly drunk now, three glasses of wine into the conversation. She blinked and watched Voldemort's face twist a little. He winced, as though he were remembering something awful, and he said,

"It's been fourteen years since I made one, and I can still feel the sensation of dying. You do really, genuinely feel like you're dying. For days and days, it feels like the most painful, most awful death imaginable, and you don't -"

"Why did you do it five times, then?" Bellatrix demanded, and Voldemort seemed stunned at having been interrupted. Bellatrix opened her mouth to apologise, but he told her,

"Because I became addicted to the idea of immortality, Bellatrix. That's why I did it five times. And if I lost you, I would be extraordinarily bereaved. I can't fathom it, frankly. But I would never put you through that. I couldn't bear to see it, and I would never ask it of you."

"It's all right," Bellatrix told him, feeling a blur in her mind as the wine sank in. "I'm sure someday I'll die in battle, but I was already planning on that."

Voldemort scowled. "Do your best _not_ to die in battle, will you?"

Bellatrix was properly dizzy now, and she asked softly, "Why do you care if I die? You've lived so long without me. I mean to say… you've had an entire incredible life without me. Before this summer, you barely knew who I was."

Voldemort swigged down his firewhisky and slammed the tumbler onto the table.

"I would care if you died because I've fallen in love with you," he said roughly. "I am still human. Splintered and torn, rebirthed and named anew, yes. But still human."

Bellatrix tried to pour herself more wine, but it wound up spilling all over the table. It got onto the three photographs that Voldemort had given her, and she gasped in horror.

" _Tergeo. Tergeo Maxima,_ " she heard him incant, and the wine was siphoned up. He stood up, snatched the photographs and the half-empty wine bottle, and told Bellatrix, "I think there's been quite enough drinking and storytelling for one night."

Bellatrix blinked where she sat as he set the bottle of wine on the buffet table and put the photographs back into the cabinet drawer. She looked around the house he'd procured for himself here in Cornwall, remembering the day she'd come here on accident. She thought of how frustrated he'd been without his magic. Little had she known then just what sort of magic he'd been doing in his lifetime.

Horcruxes. Five of them. He was immortal, somehow.

Riddle. He'd had a Muggle father. He'd been raised in a Muggle orphanage.

Gaunt. His mother had come from an old and impoverished but storied house of Purebloods.

Head Boy. He'd been a handsome young wizard, a dashing sort of prince, once upon a time. She stared at him now, at the silver running through his thinned hair, at the sharpness of his face, at the way his lips had thinned and his skin had wrinkled.

"You're scarred from it all," she dared to say. "Scarred from growing up an orphan among Muggles. Scarred from killing your father. Scarred from splitting your soul up."

"Stop it, Bellatrix," he warned her, crossing his arms over his robes. "You're drunk, and you're going to say something you'll regret."

Bellatrix shook her head, feeling a _whoosh_ in her ears as she did. She carried on a bit more firmly,

"Your scars make you irresistible. You have already walked a path hardly anyone else could even imagine. Your hardships have turned you from wax to marble. You are… you are more than human. More than the rest of us."

"Stop," he whispered again, walking over to her chair. He seemed a little tipsy, she thought distantly, but she was worse off. He pulled her up to stand and held her face in his hands as he mumbled, "I don't want to talk to you about the orphanage, Bellatrix. I don't want to talk to you about my father or my grandparents, about my mother. I don't even want to talk to you about my life at Hogwarts. Do you know why?"

"Why, Master?" Bellatrix asked, her voice bleary. She watched his throat bob, and he said quietly,

"With the last one… the last Horcrux… I felt him die for good. Tom Marvolo Riddle. He died forever in that forest in Albania. Only Lord Voldemort remains. You will not marry Tom Riddle. You will marry Lord Voldemort. You will marry your master. Do you understand? Do you comprehend it now? I killed myself with all those Horcruxes, and the Dark Lord was born of those ashes."

"I understand, My Lord," Bellatrix nodded. She reached up and put her hands over his. "I shall try not to die in battle."

Voldemort pulled his teeth around his bottom lip and seemed to be considering something.

"You'd need to be sober," he whispered, and Bellatrix frowned.

"Sober for what?"

He gulped again. "We could do it in secret. Alone, just the two of us. We wouldn't need to tell anyone; we'd have our own record of it. And we could tell people when the time was right."

Bellatrix was drunk, but she understood what he meant. They could marry now. He didn't want to wait, for some reason. She shook her head a little and insisted,

"Y-You told me you couldn't be a married wizard until you'd cemented your power. I think that's right. You've gotten this far all on your own. I refuse to stand in your way. I'm happy like this. Living here with you. I'm happy with you."

Voldemort dragged the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip, then up around her cheekbone, and he smiled just a bit.

"When the Ministry is mine, the first new file to be entered into my government records will be our marriage licence. When the wizarding world is mine at last, I will take you as my wife to celebrate. Have we a bargain, Miss Black?"

"Oh, yes, My Lord," she answered. "I quite like that bargain."

He bent and touched his forehead to hers, and he said, "I look forward to someone handing me Albus Dumbledore's wand as a trophy. But I have to thank the man for one good deed. He didn't mean to do it, but he sent you here with me that day, the day he took away my magic. And when you tagged along for the ride, Bellatrix, I was given everything I did not know I was missing."

"Oh." She was more dizzy than ever now, and she moved her mouth to meet his. She tasted firewhisky on him, and as his arms wrapped around her, she pulled her lips away a little and said again, "I'm happy with you, My Lord."

 **Author's Note: The Bellamort Fluff Express is departing the station. All aboard the Bellamort Torture Express. Choo choo!**


	24. Chapter 24

"Just set them down here. Perfect. Dismissed."

Nott and Avery nodded respectfully to Voldemort as they lowered the Immobilised forms of Maximus Malfoy and Nero Selwyn to the ground in Voldemort's office. As they left, Voldemort called after them,

"Good work. I am grateful."

"Thank you, Master." Avery bowed again, and Voldemort realised just how much the man had aged since their school days. He'd been a lanky young man once. Now he was balding and plump. Voldemort watched Avery and Nott leave, and once the door had shut, he peeled back the left sleeve of his own robe. He pressed the tip of his wand to the dormant Dark Mark on the inside of his wrist and shut his eyes, calling out to Bellatrix through the ether.

Then he rose and meandered over to where Maximus Malfoy and Nero Selwyn lay. He reinforced the Immobilisation Spells upon them and stalked around their forms, knowing they could hear him.

"You thought it funny, the two of you. Drink some firewhisky, use that as an excuse. You both had lusted after Bellatrix Black. Nero Selwyn… you even asked her to attend a little dance with you, but she wouldn't. So you took what you wanted from her. True Slytherin behaviour, I'll grant you. But there are punishments when you are caught doing the wrong thing. And you've been caught doing the wrong thing. Come in, Bella!"

He could feel her mind outside his office door. She opened it, and then her mouth fell open a little. She quietly shut the door and walked into the office, looking ferocious and unseasonable given the bitter cold that had fallen outside. She wore a sleeveless, gauzy black dress bound up with a thick leather belt, leather leggings and flat boots, and lace-up leather gauntlets. Her hair fell in wild ringlets around her shoulders, and she had lined her eyes with thick black rims of kohl. She'd known that the Hogsmeade trip was today. She'd been ready for his summons, and she'd dressed for battle.

"Bella," Voldemort said calmly, "I was just telling giving these two a little lesson about punishment. But I reckon your lesson will teach them far more."

He jerked away then, for Bellatrix had suddenly lashed out. She kicked so hard at Nero Selwyn's mouth that it immediately began gushing blood. A few of the boy's teeth clattered onto the rug, but Bellatrix wasn't finished. She kicked again, getting Nero's blood all over her boot. Again and again she kicked at his jaw and face, and once his nose and some lacerations began to bleed, she pulled back breathlessly. She stomped hard on Nero's hand, and Voldemort heard the awful crack of bones shattering. She stomped again, this time onto his wrist, and again there was a crack. She slammed her foot down over and over until his wrist and hand were a limp, red mess. Then she crouched down and stared into Nero's desperate, unmoving eyes.

"I know you can hear me," she hissed, taking a fistful of Nero's dishwater blond hair and wrenching his face back. "You… you touched me in a place that belongs to _me_. I told you _no_. I told you to stop, but you didn't stop. You laughed at me. Who's laughing now, Nero? Hm? Not you!"

She wasn't laughing, either. She was crying, tears worming their way down her cheeks as Nero Selwyn bled all over the rug. Voldemort knew far better than to say anything. He stood in silence as Bellatrix glared at Nero Selwyn and then spat on his bloody cheek. A manic look of rage crossed her eyes then, and her voice shook like mad as she aimed her want at Nero Selwyn's neck and said,

" _Diffindo._ "

Hot pink light emanated from her wand as she neatly sliced a line straight across Nero Selwyn's throat. He gurgled helplessly as blood bubbled up and out from the wide open wound in his throat. Bellatrix stayed crouched down, close to the boy, still holding his hair in one hand as a massive puddle of blood formed around her feet. Nero Selwyn's eyes went dull, and after a solid twenty seconds, the bleeding slowed and then stopped. He was dead.

"Bella," Voldemort whispered at last, and when she raised her cold, hard eyes to him, he was almost frightened of her. He'd expected her to use a simple Cruciatus Curse, and he'd been prepared to put the boys down with Killing Curses. But Bellatrix was too angry for those simple solutions. She finally released Nero Selwyn's hair and stood, and she asked,

"Will you open the windows for ventilation, My Lord?"

"Ventilation?" he repeated. Bellatrix said nothing, so Voldemort walked over to the windows and pushed them open. Frigid air blew in, and he could smell rain in the distance. But he left the windows open and watched as Bellatrix moved to kneel above Maximus Malfoy.

She stroked the boy's jaw and said in a voice that was eerie in its calm chill,

"Poor Maximus. You were never the leader, though you so badly wanted to be. Didn't get Quidditch Captain. Always played second fiddle amongst your friends, even though you were the biggest. You used that size against me, but… again, Maximus… brute force doesn't win out. You had poor marks in school. You were a middling athlete, even with your bulk. And you thought you'd get away with putting your hands on me, but look. _Look_ , Maximus. You are on the floor, and the little girl you groped is about to kill you. Hmmm."

She rose and drew a circle around Maximus Malfoy's form, murmuring,

" _Contraflagrante… Contraflagrante Trio._ "

Fireproofing spells. Ventilation. Voldemort suddenly realised just what Bellatrix meant to do. She was going to burn Maximus Malfoy alive. He stood up straighter, his own wand gripped tightly in his hand, and he watched as Bellatrix pointed her wand at Maximus.

"Odd, crooked little thing, isn't it?" She was mocking him now, using the words he'd used to mock her wand. She tipped her head and informed him, "It's quite adept at setting fires. _Incendio!_ "

Fire burst forth from the tip of her wand and snared around Maximus Malfoy's form. His Slytherin robes caught fire at once, and flames began to lick at his flesh. Voldemort silently reinforced the Immobilisation, knowing that although the boy was lying still, he was feeling the full effect of being on fire.

The smell was awful. Burning hair and flesh filled the office with a terrible odour that almost made Voldemort vomit. But Bellatrix stood back and grinned, her tears long gone now. She laughed a little as Maximus' white-blond hair singed and vanished, as his face began to melt away. She clapped her hands to her cheeks and gave Voldemort a look of pure glee. He was shocked by her cruelty, by the way she _enjoyed_ this sadism. And yet, he found himself going hard in his trousers at the sight of her in the glow of the flames. She was supremely beautiful just now, vicious and merciless, exacting her revenge.

It took twenty minutes for Maximus Malfoy to burn. During that time, Voldemort had to go out into the corridor to assure his concerned followers that the manor was not on fire. He sent them all away with a sharp bark, including Abraxas Malfoy, who was very well aware that his nephew was being punished today.

By the time the flames were gone, Maximus Malfoy was a blackened husk of what he'd once been. His teeth were exposed by the way his face had burnt away. His flowing blond hair had gone entirely. His robes were gone, too, revealing his shriveled, naked form. Bellatrix just stared at him, then at the bled-out shell of Nero Selwyn, and she sighed.

"May I Vanish them, Master?" she asked finally, and he hesitated for a half second before he said honestly,

"I think that would be best. I can clean up the mess."

" _Corpus Evanesco. Corpus Evanesco._ " Bellatrix sent the remains of the boys into Nonbeing, leaving behind ash and the smell of death and burning, a drying bloodstain, and a few teeth. Voldemort hurried to siphon up the blood, to Vanish the ash and teeth, to replace the smoke and smell with a pleasant floral aroma. Soon enough the office was back to its fresh state. Bellatrix stared down and said almost angrily,

"He got blood on my boot. _Scourgify._ "

Voldemort could hardly cope with it now, with how incredibly savage and monstrous she'd been. Not that he could blame her one bit for her barbarity - these boys had violated her unapologetically. She deserved vengeance. But she'd been far more depraved about exacting revenge than Voldemort had predicted. He'd spent the last few months underestimating her, he realised. He'd known she was courageous, a bit impulsive. He'd known she was very intelligent and shrewd, that she bore no pity toward anybody. But he had not known until today just what Bellatrix was capable of doing, what she would do without anyone holding her back. And so he was quite hard indeed for her. But he knew much better than to pursue anything physical right now. He gulped hard and said quietly,

"I hope… I hope you feel a little bit better. Just a little bit vindicated."

Bellatrix stared right at him, looking painfully beautiful. She nodded, her eyes going wet but her face staying stoic.

"Thank for this, My Lord. You are good to me. Better than I deserve."

"No," he disagreed, but she said quickly,

"I do not wish to speak of them ever again, if you please. The incident that transpired between those boys and me… I'd like never to speak of it again."

He nodded. "If that's what you want."

"What I want," she said quietly, stepping toward him, "is in your trousers."

His jaw went slack then, and he felt surprise rip him through. Bellatrix sank down, reaching inside of his robes, and he clutched at her hair.

"Wh-what are you doing?"

"Worshipping my master," she said simply. He set his wand down on his desk and gasped a little as she pulled him out, smirking up at him. "You were already hard. It excited you, My Lord, didn't it? Watching me be wicked."

"Bellatrix." He leaned back a little, his head hitting the wall, and he gripped more tightly at her hair. She suckled his tip into her mouth and then drew him further and further in until he was sure she'd gag. But she didn't gag. She swallowed hard, and the feel of her throat squeezing around him made him groan loudly.

"Bella. Oh. _Oh_. Bella." He was rambling her name, but he couldn't help himself. Her tongue was swirling around his tip inside her mouth. She was pulling with her lips at the place just beneath his shaft. One hand was playing with his balls, gently and carefully. Her other hand pressed against his stomach, her fingers clenching. It was so much, too much, and Voldemort panted as he whispered,

"You're… you are… extraordinary, Bella. I love you. I love you."

She moaned onto him, her voice a low buzz. He thought of her slicing open Nero Selwyn's throat and holding the boy's hair as he bled out onto the rug. He thought of her setting Maximus Malfoy on fire whilst he was still alive. And then he came, harder than he could remember doing, his bitter seed pumping into Bellatrix's mouth. She drank it down as if it were quenching a powerful thirst. She kept him in her mouth until he went soft, and then she reluctantly tucked him into his trousers and stood.

"Master," she said softly, "Thank you."

He just tucked her hair behind her ear and nodded, and he told her, "I've got to meet with Yaxley. Ministry matters. I'll see you at home, unless you'd prefer to stay here."

"I think… perhaps a shower might be nice," Bellatrix said, and he nodded again. She laced her fingers through his and said very determinedly, "I shall see you at our home. At the place where you and I have a good life together."

She was trying to erase the stain of those boys from her mind, he knew, so he nodded again and reminded her,

"I'll be your husband soon. Go wash up, Bella."

 **Author's Note: WHEW! That was… um… well, you let me know in the comments just what you thought about that. Haha.**


	25. Chapter 25

"Bella! _BELLATRIX!_ Where are you? Bella!"

She turned away from the pot of butternut squash soup on the stove and called,

"I'm in the kitchen, Master."

He appeared in the threshold, rain-soaked and shivering, and he thrust out a parchment to her.

"This came to my office," he barked. "Well. It was delivered to _Tom Marvolo Riddle_ at Malfoy Manor. Abraxas brought it to me, sealed. No one else has seen it."

Bellatrix frowned deeply and took the parchment. She began to read, and as she did, her stomach went cold and her head began to spin.

 _Tom,_

 _You were always a gifted potioneer, and as I recall, you invented a few potions yourself during your years at Hogwarts. You may or may not know, but I, too, have invented several potions, some of whose recipes have remained my own secrets to keep._

 _I was nervous, Tom, that you would do for Miss Black precisely what you wound up doing when we held her. You see, I was nervous that you would charge in with a horde of your followers, commit murder, take Miss Black away, and resume your dangerous and insidious aspirations._

 _I was right. Sometimes I am. This time, I was not happy about it. I am aware that your followers have sent owls to their school-aged children encouraging them to kill me here inside Hogwarts Castle. I am aware that you have placed a bounty of one million Galleons upon my life._

 _Because I was somewhat anxious about the possibility of all this, I confess that I took rather drastic steps when Miss Bellatrix Black was in my custody. I dosed her with a potion of my own creation, for which I possess the exclusive knowledge of an antidote. It has now been precisely two weeks since Miss Black was dosed with this potion, and the side effects will begin to become obvious very shortly._

 _If you find that the potion's effects are untenable, I would be more than happy to make an exchange. You will turn yourself into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and in return, I will happily brew the antidote for Miss Black._

 _Do let me know if you feel this offer is to your liking. I will wait patiently, very much alive, here at Hogwarts._

 _Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

Bellatrix's hands shook around the letter. Her soup was burning. She turned off the stove and set her wand down, and she read the entire letter again. When she looked up, Voldemort's eyes were shining oddly.

"What sort of side effects could he mean?" Bellatrix asked, and Voldemort shrugged helplessly.

"I have no idea, but I'm going to turn myself in."

"What?" Bellatrix slammed the letter down and shook her head vehemently. "No. This is a trap. He'll throw you into Azkaban and me with you! He could be lying. He could be -"

"I'm sure he did dose you with something," Voldemort said, "and I'm not willing to wait and find out what it will do to you. If the Dementors administer their Kiss at Azkaban, I'll use a Horcrux to resurrect my soul."

"I won't let you do that, Master," Bellatrix insisted, and he scoffed.

"How exactly do you mean to stop me?"

Bellatrix's eyes flicked toward the butcher block full of large, sharp knives.

"No!" Voldemort snapped. "Bella, I am not going to let anything happen to you. Yes, he knows that. He's figured me out."

"I'm a weakness for you," Bellatrix lamented softly. She shook her head and said, "I should go."

"You're not going anywhere," Voldemort snarled. His breath shook in his nostrils then, and he whispered, "Come here."

She stepped away from the forgotten soup, but suddenly her legs gave out on her. She yelped, collapsing to her knees. She gasped then, looking down to see that her legs had immediately and severely bruised from the fall. She tried to stand, but it felt like her knees were broken.

"Bella?"

His voice sounded distant and soft. Bellatrix's head felt very heavy, like her neck couldn't support it, and she collapsed forward onto her arms. They gave out the same way her legs had done, and she screamed in pain as she watched her wrist fracture. The bones poked through the skin. The pain was terrible. Her head had hit the floor.

"Master…" Her whisper was weak. She was bleeding. The soup had been abandoned on the stove.

Bellatrix shut her eyes.

* * *

 _Certain spells and potions have the ability to mimic the Muggle medical conditions that affect the bones. So-called 'brittle bone disease,' for example, can be replicated through Magical means. Beyond bones that break easily, symptoms may include a blue tinge to the whites of the eyes and problems breathing._

Voldemort looked up to where Bellatrix lay sleeping, heavily sedated with pain killing potions. Her wrist was in a splint, as were both ankles. Her legs were propped up with pillows, and her neck had a brace round it. Her breath was ragged and shallow. Voldemort's chest wrenched as he studied her.

He should just turn himself in, he thought for the tenth time that night. But he had no guarantee that Dumbledore would do anything other than encourage the arrest of Bellatrix Black. He'd called off the dogs on killing Dumbledore; he'd sent owls informing his Death Eaters that he needed Dumbledore alive until further notice. But he still hadn't turned himself in. He had no reason to believe that Dumbledore would show any kind of mercy. After all, Bellatrix was a murderer, too, and the Aurors would know that if they examined her wand.

Even if Voldemort went to prison and then used a Horcrux, he would have no real way of protecting Bellatrix. By far his safest option was to overcome Dumbledore's long-acting potion on his own. He'd spent the last few hours reading, and the stack of books beside him contained volumes on potions, herbs, and medicine. Now he was reading _Muggle Meets Magical: Close Links Between the Worlds of Health._ He lowered his eyes to the page and read,

 _Muggles' treatment for brittle bone disease is rudimentary at best and ignorant at worst. Patients are advised to avoid smoking tobacco, to lead a healthy lifestyle with good exercise, and to have metal rods surgically implanted alongside the bones to brace them. Magical Healers discovered centuries ago, however, that this condition is easily treated with a properly-brewed Ibandronus Potion. The recipe for the potion is found below._

 _IBANDRONUS POTION_

 _Combine 750 ml of Standard Potioning Water with a half kilogram of coal dust. Boil on high heat for three hours, then add two teaspoons Bubotuber Pus. Stir vigorously, then simmer for seventy-seven hours. Add eight teaspoons of Mersalt (salt from mermaid-inhabited inland seas), a half kilogram of crushed nettles, and two more teaspoons of Bubotuber Pus. Boil on high heat for three hours, then simmer for eight days. Add one teaspoon of dragon's blood, boil on high for one hour, and remove from heat. Administer one tablespoon four times daily until symptoms resolve._

Voldemort sighed heavily. It would take a few days to get those ingredients. Mersalt? He'd have to send an agent to Knockturn Alley for that. It would take about twelve days to brew, too, and then an indefinite amount of time to start seeing results.

But it was all he had. He had no other options, at least no good options. Voldemort set the book on the bed and went to the upstairs library, where Veles was waiting for him.

"I'll have something for you in just a moment," he told the smart old bird. He scratched a quick letter to Abraxas Malfoy, stating that he needed Mersalt and Bubotuber Pus sent back with Veles as soon as possible. He also stated that he'd be indisposed for the time being and not to bother him unless it was an emergency. He gave no explanation. This predicament, much like the time when he'd lost his magic, was not something that could become public. He sent the letter off with Veles and then went downstairs to brew up some rose tea with honey. He took it and some shortbread upstairs on a tray and went into the bedroom, sitting on his chair beside the bed.

"Bellatrix," he murmured, and though she stirred, she didn't wake. She was very sedated, he knew, but he was determined to get some tea and biscuits into her. He cleared his throat and said again, "Bellatrix."

She blinked her eyes open slowly, trying to turn her face to look at him.

"Careful," he said softly. "Your neck is braced. So is just about everything else on you, I'm afraid."

"My bones," she whispered. "It feels like my bones are all broken."

"I think I've figured out what he's done to you, the sodding miserable bastard," Voldemort growled. He shook his head, never having wanted in all his life to kill a person more than he did right now. He gulped and held up his book to show Bellatrix. "This potion treats the symptoms you're having. I have no idea if it'll work on whatever sadistic nonsense Dumbledore's dreamed up, but it's worth a try. It'll take me twelve days once Abraxas gets me Mersalt."

"Mersalt." Bellatrix's brows furrowed. She flicked her eyes to him. "You mean like salt from the Caspian Sea or the Dead Sea? It has to be an inland sea where Merpeople live, right? I remember that from Potions. We never used it."

"I don't exactly keep it on hand," Voldemort admitted. "I'm hoping Malfoy gets it to me quickly so I can begin brewing. In the meantime, I'll keep your pain under control, keep you fed and hydrated and as comfortable as I can. I'll read to you… book after book… to stave off boredom. I'll sing you a few songs here and there. We'll talk. It'll be fine. The days will fly by."

"Will you hold my hand?" Bellatrix asked, and for some reason, the way the question came out made Voldemort's stomach hurt. He set the book down and reached very carefully for her fingers, afraid he'd snap them. He put their hands together but didn't squeeze, and he mused,

"When I was a boy, a few children at the orphanage contracted an awful disease called polio. One boy… well, he didn't come back from hospital. Another did, but needed leg braces to stagger about. And the third, a little girl with black curls rather like yours… she had to lie in bed all the time, even after she got better. You make me think of her just now, for some reason. I haven't thought about her in many years."

Bellatrix blinked and asked, "What was her name?"

"I don't remember," Voldemort said honestly. "I didn't care what her name was, and so I don't remember. Lucy, I think. Or Ruby. I don't know."

There was a heavy silence for a long while then, and finally Bellatrix asked in a shaking voice,

"Please… please, Master... Promise me something?"

"Mmm-hmm." There was a knot in his throat now, and it didn't go away when Bellatrix said,

"Promise me you won't turn yourself in in exchange for the antidote."

Voldemort said nothing. He certainly hadn't ruled that out as a possibility, especially if the potion from the book failed to work. But Bellatrix's voice was rough and gravelly as she insisted again,

"Please promise me that you will not turn yourself in, My Lord."

He licked his bottom lip, realising that he did love Bellatrix, so profoundly that he felt broken into pieces now. He swallowed hard and told her gently,

"I promise, Bella."

 **Author's Note: Oh, noooooo. Turns out Albus Dumbledore is willing to get a little Machiavellian. Just that lil hint of Slytherin peeking through that Gryffindor armor, huh? ;) Will the potion that Voldemort's found work to fix Bellatrix without him turning himself in? How will they pass all this time with her body so fragile? Hmm…**


	26. Chapter 26

Brussels sprouts.

Of all the foods Bellatrix could have requested, she wanted Brussels sprouts. So Lord Voldemort, the most feared Dark wizard in the world, was standing with his wand aimed at a frying pan, caramelising Brussels sprouts in oil, lemon juice, salt, and pepper. When they'd finished, he scooped them into a bowl, put them on a tray with a fork, a bread roll, and a cloth napkin, and he poured some fresh milk into a glass.

His Ibandronus Potion still had twenty-six hours of simmering before the next step. It was brewing in his library, and he checked on it almost compulsively. The house smelled rather unpleasant now, owing to the Bubotuber pus in the potion, but that couldn't be helped.

Voldemort carried the tray of food and drink up the staircase, pausing two thirds of the way up when he heard Bellatrix sobbing.

"Please, Master," she was saying, "I only want to make you happy."

"Happy," repeated Voldemort's own voice. "The only thing that would make me happy would be for you to go very far away and never, ever speak to me again."

"Master!" Bellatrix cried, and Voldemort rolled his eyes. He rushed up and into the bedroom, set the tray of food down on the dresser, and quickly stood in between the bed and the phantom figure of himself.

He expected to see the 'Lord Voldemort' crumple into death, for that had always been his boggart vision. But he was shocked to see the tall, robed wizard transform into Bellatrix herself, lying still on the ground with a pale blue face. He blinked. His worst fear was a dead Bellatrix.

" _Riddikulus,_ " he whispered, and suddenly Bellatrix's dead form shifted and moved. She was in a frilly pink tutu now, turning ballet spins and laughing wildly. She tossed glitter into the air and giggled. Voldemort Banished the boggart, flinging the window open as he did. He held the Banishing spell until he was certain the boggart had gone very far away. Then he went to shut the window, and he told Bellatrix,

"There's been a boggart in these parts for years. Every now and then it finds me. Feels my magic. I haven't seen it around here for almost a year now."

He snatched the tray of food off the dresser and sat in his chair beside the bed. He set the tray gingerly on Bellatrix's lap as she wiped tears away, and he said crisply,

"Brussels sprouts, as per your request."

"I thought it was you," Bellatrix said quietly. "I was drowsy. I woke up, and you were standing there, telling me I was a burden, a loathsome creature that you despised."

"Well, it was a boggart," Voldemort said impatiently. "Naturally, it would show you something very unpleasant like that. But you needn't worry; I'd never say anything of the sort to you."

Bellatrix blinked at him, looking drawn and weary. "Your worst fear… it was… _me_. I thought it would be you."

"It always has been, in the past," he nodded. He licked his bottom lip and shrugged. "Fears change."

She said nothing more about it, which was intelligent of her. She murmured her thanks for the food and set about eating. Voldemort bent and picked up the book he'd set down earlier, a worn copy of _Prometheus: Thief of Fire._

"Shall I keep reading?" he asked, and Bellatrix nodded with a Brussels sprout in her mouth. Voldemort cleared his throat and read in a patient, quiet voice,

" _Prometheus knew that the Muggles would never find fire of their own accord. Even when lightning struck and set something ablaze, they seemed utterly unable to make good use of it. So he took fire from cave to cave, teaching the hapless Muggles how to build campfires. They marveled at the way fire came from his wand, and they demanded an explanation. Prometheus knew of their love for the god Zeus, and he informed them that he'd stolen the fire against Zeus' wishes. This only made the Muggles admire Prometheus all the more, which pleased him, since he wanted them to see him as a god, too."_

"My Lord, I'm sorry to interrupt," Bellatrix said, and Voldemort looked up to see her carefully setting her tray of food aside. "I need… erm… the toilet."

"Oh." Voldemort put the ribbon marker into his book and shut it, and he said, "Right. I shall carry you."

"I can walk," Bellatrix insisted, but Voldemort scowled and shook his head.

"No. We've no idea what the extent of this potion's effects are or how permanent any damage might be. I shall carry you."

He scooped her out of the bed, being extra careful with all of her limbs. She twisted a little and yelped, and he froze.

"My back!" She wrenched her eyes shut and whimpered in pain. "Agh. My back."

"I'm sorry," Voldemort muttered, but Bellatrix shook her head a little. "I'm all right, Master."

He carried her into the bathroom and helped her onto the toilet. She seemed utterly humiliated when he carefully peeled her knickers down and off from beneath her nightgown, and she cried softly in pain as she shifted a little.

"I'll wait outside. Call for me when you've finished." Voldemort set her knickers down on the edge of the sink, going back to the bedroom and shutting the door behind him. He waited until he heard the toilet flush, and then he heard a shriek of pain. He flung the door open to see Bellatrix lying on the ground, crying harder than he'd ever seen her cry.

"Did you try to stand up?" he demanded, and she just moaned in agony. She had her knickers clenched in her hand, he could see. She'd been trying to put herself to rights. Voldemort huffed a breath and carefully lifted Bellatrix off the ground.

"You must not have any modesty now," he growled at her, placing her in the bed. He slipped her knickers over her feet and up around her hips. He aimed his wand at her hands and murmured, " _Scourgify._ "

He took the bottle of painkilling Anodyne Draught from the bedside table and spooned a dose between Bellatrix's lips. As he corked the bottle and Banished the tray of food back downstairs, he snapped at her,

"You've never been one to request or accept help. I know this of you. I've known it for years; you had a reputation for being a difficult child and a stubborn student at Hogwarts. But you can be difficult or stubborn now, Bellatrix. Your body is breaking apart at the seams, and you were poisoned because of me. So if you think I will begrudge you some Brussels sprouts or some help with the toilet, you are wrong."

She blinked slowly, the sedation coming over her with a peaceful weight. She seemed very tired as she murmured,

"I wonder if your potion will work."

"I certainly hope so," he nodded, his eyes burning badly. "I need it to work. You saw what the boggart showed me. That's my truth, and you know it."

"I thought… you'd be more afraid of dying yourself," Bellatrix mused, and Voldemort gave her a helpless little scoff.

"Yes, well… I never expected to fall in love with you, Bellatrix, but here I am. In love with you. Afraid for you. Close your eyes and dream happy things."

"Happy things?" she sounded distant now, her hands lying limply beside her. Voldemort brushed his knuckles along her arm and whispered,

"Dream of flying with me. Soaring over London, cloaked by Disillusionment. Flying through the Highlands, over the sea. Dream of kissing me. I dream of kissing you."

"I'm sorry, Master," Bellatrix said quietly, but Voldemort didn't respond. All he knew was that he wanted Albus Dumbledore ripped limb from limb. He wanted Dumbledore's throat slit like Nero Selwyn's had been. He wanted Dumbledore set on fire like Maximus Malfoy had been. He wanted Dumbledore dissolved into ash, his wand in Voldemort's hand as a trophy.

He would see it done, he decided then, if it was the last thing he ever did.

 **Author's Note: Heyyyyyyyyyy, so. You guys are awesome for reading and reviewing, but there's a weird glitch in FF's system at the moment. I can see a review count, but there are 5 reviews that have been left that I can't see. :( I apologize for that. Until the problem is fixed, please feel free to send me a PM with feedback if you feel so inclined. Otherwise, thank you for reading.**


	27. Chapter 27

Bellatrix winced as she woke up.

"Careful. You moved again," said Voldemort quietly. She looked over to where he sat, reading a book about Magical herbs for medicinal purposes. He pulled off the black wood-framed glasses he'd been wearing, and Bellatrix scowled.

"Glasses?"

" _Reading_ glasses," he said defensively, "and I only need them when the light's low. It's part of being older, you know. Your vision degrades with time. Don't worry; yours will, too."

He folded and set the glasses on the book and put it all on the floor. Outside, a hard rain lashed at the window. It was very dark except for a solitary sconce on the wall. Bellatrix felt dizzy as she said,

"It was afternoon when I fell asleep."

"Your Anodyne's worn off, but I admit I'm afraid to give you more," Voldemort said. "I'm nervous about dosing you with so much of it, given the fact that we're fighting off the effects of Dumbledore's own potion."

"Oh." Bellatrix furrowed her brows and admitted, "I'm still so tired, Master."

Voldemort adjusted his flannel pyjama shirt, and Bellatrix smiled a little at the sight of the dark blue and dark green plaid pattern. It wasn't the sort of pyjamas she was used to seeing him wear. She reached for his hand, then cried out from the pain of that. Voldemort pinched his lips and tipped his head.

"If I Immobilise you, you won't hurt yourself in your sleep. You won't be able to move or speak, obviously, but… you'd be safe."

Bellatrix hesitated, but then she said, "Safe. Yes. Perhaps I should close my eyes first."

Voldemort stood from his chair and pulled his wand from a pocket inside his pyjama shirt. He stalked slowly round the bed and arranged himself beneath the blankets, beside Bellatrix. He'd been sleeping in the blue bedroom for days, and today he'd completed the next step with his potion. It would simmer for eight days now.

"May I sleep beside you?" he asked, and Bellatrix smirked as she replied,

"This is your house, My Lord. You may sleep wherever you like. I'm your guest."

"You are not my guest," he said a bit harshly. "You are my fiancée. This is _our_ house."

Bellatrix's eyes welled badly then, and her breath hurt in her lungs as she started to cry. Voldemort shushed her gently and kissed her cheekbone. He brushed her hair away with his fingers and whispered,

"Close your eyes. I'll keep you safe."

As Bellatrix let her heavy eyelids fall shut, she could hear his voice in her mind. _I'll keep you safe… you are my fiancée_. It was so much, too much to bear, and she struggled again to breathe.

" _Immobulus,_ " murmured Voldemort. Bellatrix felt a zap strike her through, and then she couldn't have moved even if she'd wanted to do so. She felt Voldemort settle onto the pillow beside her, and he said,

"I'll be talking to myself for a while now, I suppose. Not really, because you can hear me, but you can't answer. Well… when you fell asleep, the sun was out. Now it's very rainy. The clouds came out of nowhere, and twenty minutes later it was pouring. Veles was meant to bring me an update from Malfoy, but I don't expect he'll be back tonight. Perhaps tomorrow. The potion reeks. You can't smell it too badly from up here, but… that Bubotuber pus. Not that I'll mind, provided it works. I'm rambling."

Bellatrix wanted to laugh. He sounded almost like he was drunk. She felt him play with her hair a little, and he said gently,

"You are so beautiful. I can't fault Rodolphus Lestrange one bit for falling in love with you. If I were a young wizard your age, I'd fall in love with you, too. Well. Apparently I'd fall in love with you no matter what. I should be quiet now, probably. I wonder what you're thinking of me going on and on right now. Hmm. _Legilimens._ "

Bellatrix shoved forth her amusement, her admiration, and she begged him mentally to tell her a story - some kind of story about him that she'd never heard. She felt his presence throbbing inside her mind, and he sighed as he dragged his fingertips along her collarbone. She tingled from the inside out, wanting more from him. She willed him to touch her between her legs, but he scoffed and yanked himself from her head.

"No. Not when you can't move or speak. Not when the slightest touch or motion breaks you apart. I will wait, and so will you. Now… a story I can do. Ready? All right. Here goes."

He cleared his throat and adjusted himself beside Bellatrix. His fingers caressed her neck and cheek as he said in a soothing tone,

"Once upon a time… that's how all good stories start, isn't it? Right. Once upon a time, there was a young wizard called Tom Riddle, who was Head Boy at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. During his seventh year, one of the witches on staff insisted upon hosting a Valentine's Day ball in the Great Hall. Tom Riddle was not at all pleased about this, as he bore no sentimentality toward romantic nonsense."

Bellatrix laughed inwardly. She didn't move or make any sound, of course. Voldemort's knuckles brushed over her jaw, and he kissed her cheek gently. Then he continued,

"It was 1945, and the entire world - Muggle and wizarding alike - was very concerned with war. Between Grindelwald and the Muggle Nazis, everything was in flux. Everything was chaos. And so there had to be a ball, just to cheer everyone up. Tom Riddle fully intended on staying holed up in the library during this ball, but he was informed by Headmaster Dippet that, as Head Boy, his attendance was expected. Furthermore, he needed a date."

Bellatrix was grinning inside now, though her mouth stayed firm and unmoving. Voldemort's fingers snared into her curls, and he was very close as he swept his lips along Bellatrix's collarbone. She felt his head press onto the pillow beside her, and his voice got quiet as he said,

"The boy decided to wait for the young witches to come to him. He was very handsome, and very desirable, and he wasn't about to go groveling for a date. The first witch who approached him was a fourth-year. She came from a good family, but she was still all gangly limbs; there was no womanhood about her. She was an unsuitable date for the great Tom Marvolo Riddle. So he said no to Druella Rosier, who wound up going to the dance with Riddle's associate, Cygnus Black III. The rest is history."

Bellatrix felt shock roil through her then. She'd known that her father was a few years older than her mother, that the two of them had been in school together. But she had had no idea at all that her mother had asked the boy who would become Voldemort to go to a dance with her - and even worse, had been rejected! Bellatrix wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry, but it didn't matter. She couldn't move. She was getting tired now.

"I am so very glad that Cygnus took Druella to that dance," Voldemort was saying, "and that they fell in love and stayed in love. I am so very glad that, years later, they had a little girl called Bellatrix. Tom Riddle is gone, and that past is gone. But Lord Voldemort is profoundly happy to have Bellatrix Black. I hope you know that, Bella. I hope you know that I'm grateful I lost my magic in that battle."

Bellatrix tried to gasp in surprise. Instead she just lay there, Immobilised by his magic, and she felt him kiss her lips carefully. His breath was warm and soft on her mouth as he told her,

"Every single thing - the fortune and the anguish - all of it leads to the right end. I believe that. I believe that I was meant to kill my father, that I was meant to grow up isolated. I believe that it was a good thing, the right thing, that I lost my magic and was able to fall in love with you. And so I refuse to believe that this is for nothing. This - _this,_ what you are enduring right now - will lead us where we are meant to be. I trust that you are intelligent enough to understand that."

She couldn't answer, but she agreed with him. As difficult as things seemed sometimes, it did often appear as though everything was purposeful, like the universe was moving them around on an unseen chess board.

"Get some sleep, Bella," she heard him say. "I'll stay awake for a while so the spell doesn't wear off. Just let sleep settle over you now… _Somnulus…_ "

She felt profoundly tired then, like she was slipping beneath a warm sea. She could hear Voldemort humming beside her, a mournful tune she recognised from a folk singer she'd heard in Diagon Alley one time. She fell fast asleep with his hand cupping her face, his breath soothing her neck as he hummed.

 **Author's Note: Awwwww, Bellamort fluff. Gotta love the stuff. But it's time for some serious action now. Buckle your seatbelts!**

 **I am now receiving emails containing the text of reviews, so even though they aren't showing up on the site, I can see them if you leave them. Also, some people have expressed through PM that they prefer to give feedback that way instead of a review. Please know that my inbox is always open for conversation. :) Thank you so very much for reading.**


	28. Chapter 28

"How did this come to pass?" Voldemort struggled to keep his voice calm as he stared at the body hovering over the dining room table at Malfoy Manor.

"My Lord," began Abraxas Malfoy, "Lucius worked with Avery's son Aeron, who is in his sixth year. Aeron Avery had to try three times, but he finally got the potion right."

"Draught of Living Death," Voldemort murmured, and Malfoy nodded.

"Aeron Avery and Lucius snuck into the kitchens one night and coerced a few House-Elves into putting the potion into his food. It had to be a late-night snack, they insisted. Something he'd take in his private quarters, not the Great Hall. They Imperiused young Professor Sprout into telling them the password for the Headmaster's office, then Obliviated her. When they got up there, he was already like this. The boys snuck out of the Headmaster's Tower on broomsticks, Levitating the body between them, and they flew to Hogsmeade, where they met Avery and myself."

"I must say, I am terribly impressed," Voldemort nodded, studying the way Dumbledore's pale grey hair floated around him. He shook his head then and insisted, "It seems unlike him, to let this happen to him. I sense that he knew it was inevitable. He didn't want a battle. In any case. I've got him now."

"And this, Master." Abraxas Malfoy pulled a thin, knobby wand from inside his robes and held it out to Voldemort. "The wand of Albus Dumbledore."

Voldemort smirked a little and shrugged. "I always wondered why he switched wands. Do you remember when we were in school, Abraxas? He had a different wand. This one was Grindelwald's, I think."

"I believe you're correct, Master," Malfoy said. Voldemort twirled the wand a little, deciding he quite liked how it felt in his hand. He tucked away the yew wand that had been given to Tom Riddle as a boy, and he aimed Dumbledore's wand at a wall sconce.

" _Confringo!_ " The sconce exploded with a mighty blast, and Malfoy flinched. Voldemort smiled more broadly than ever and said simply, " _Reparo._ I like this wand."

"I can only hope that the boys have pleased you, My Lord, having captured Dumbledore alive." Malfoy was hinting, and Voldemort obliged. He flicked his eyes to Malfoy and nodded.

"Half a million for the Malfoy and Avery families each. Be sure the boys see most of that. I'll write letters for them and speak with them both over the Christmas holidays about becoming Death Eaters. Of course, I could see the students being sent home early now that the Headmaster's gone missing. The portraits in the office must have seen them. They'll be wanted by the Ministry."

"They Transfigured their features, My Lord, and wore Muggle-style clothing," Malfoy said. "The portraits were shouting, but they didn't know who was taking Dumbledore away."

Voldemort felt a flush of satisfaction and said, "They will make fine Death Eaters, the both of them. Tell your son - very discreetly - that I am proud, and that he will rewarded. Have Avery do the same for his son Aeron. I require some privacy with the Headmaster."

"My Lord." Abraxas Malfoy bowed low and backed out of the dining room. Voldemort began to slowly circle around the table, and he murmured, "Why did you eat the poisoned food, Dumbledore? Surely you knew… were you trying to spare those boys punishment? Did you know we'd get to you eventually? Show me… _Legilimens._ "

He fished around in Dumbledore's mind and found an image of him speaking to Minerva McGonagall, the plucky Transfigurations professor who also happened to be a registered Animagus.

' _I was in cat form, of course,' Minerva was saying. 'I suppose they thought I was someone's pet, or they simply didn't see me. They sat there in the Common Room, Albus, brazenly talking about it. One million Galleons.'_

' _Tom Riddle will not rest until I am dead,' Albus nodded, 'and though I would prefer that were a very long time from now, I will not have students imperiled by my will to stay alive. I have taken a bold measure to dissuade him.'_

' _That potion you created?' Minerva asked disbelievingly. 'Did you give it to Bellatrix Black? I didn't think you would.'_

' _I do not feel that I had much choice,' said Dumbledore. 'I firmly believe that she is the key to the only shred of human emotion Riddle now possesses. I dosed her at Carina Shacklebolt's house, and in just a few hours or so, the effects should take hold. Her body will be extremely weak; this ought to trigger a reaction in Tom, prompt him to turn himself over… particularly if he is in possession of something I think he has.'_

 _Minerva frowned, confused. Then she asked in a whisper, 'Have you killed her, Albus? Bellatrix Black. By giving her that potion, have you doomed her?'_

' _No, of course not,' Dumbledore said. 'She requires nothing more than a simple Ibandronus Potion to improve. It is simple, but it is obscure. I doubt even Tom Riddle would be willing to wait for it to brew, even if he found it in a book. I have confidence he'll panic.'_

' _And we will, of course, be encouraging the Ministry to take Miss Black, as well,' Minerva affirmed firmly. 'Won't we? We've all kinds of evidence against her.'_

' _We will see to it that those who have committed the gravest offences against wizardkind are appropriately punished, Minerva,' Dumbledore nodded. 'Now. If you'll excuse me, I've a letter to send off to Mr Riddle.'_

Voldemort cackled where he stood, staring up at the hovering body of Albus Dumbledore. He observed the stillness in his enemy's face, and suddenly he blurted,

"You didn't know. Not really. You thought I'd come running to you like a dog with my tail between my legs. You thought I'd surrender, that I wouldn't find the answer myself! You were wrong, Dumbledore; you've always been wrong."

With that, he flung Dumbledore's body hard against the wood paneled wall, and he stalked over to where it collapsed against the ground. Dumbledore couldn't hear him, not in this death-like sleep, but Voldemort didn't care. He fisted a wad of Dumbledore's silvery hair in his hand, and he hissed,

"Tonight I will add the dragon's blood to the Ibandronus Potion and give it to my Bella. _My_ Bella, yes. The only person you thought would be my undoing. But she's a weapon for me, Dumbledore, not a heel spur, you understand? _Diffindo._ "

He sliced off the lock of Dumbledore's hair and quickly Conjured a little jar. He shoved the hair down into the jar and corked it, whispering,

"Something for your legions of fans to have upon your inevitable shrine. A relic of Saint Albus of Dumbledore, eh?"

He was manic with delight now, his heart thudding in his chest as he wrenched Dumbledore's still, peaceful face toward him.

"You blithering fool. You self-righteous idiot. You always thought you knew best, but you didn't. You don't now. You'll never have the chance to be a sanctimonious prick again, Dumbledore. Never. _AVADA KEDAVRA!_ "

There was a vivid flash of jade light that almost blinded Voldemort for a moment. Now, he could really tell that Dumbledore was dead, and not sleeping. Voldemort scrambled to his feet and aimed the wand that Dumbledore had taken off of Grindelwald at the body on the floor. He took one final look at the wizard who had come to Wool's Orphanage to tell Tom Riddle that he was special and different, and he said softly,

"Special. Different. And more than you ever gave me credit for. _Corpus Evanesco._ "

* * *

Voldemort's breath shook in his nostrils as he carried the bottle of completed Ibandronus Potion up the stairs. He came into the bedroom, where Bellatrix was propped up on pillows. He'd told her exactly what had happened with Dumbledore, and she looked at once anxious and excited as he came into the bedroom.

"The fallout from all of this will be unfathomable," she said as he came up beside her and uncorked the bottle in his hand. She was paying no attention to the potion as she whispered, "He's dead. I can't believe it. I mean to say, I can believe it, that you did, but… he's dead."

"That man has been underestimating me since I was eleven years old," Voldemort said crisply. "Not anymore. Everything will fall now. The school, the Ministry… I'll take hold of things quickly. Jenkins has to go next, along with any heads of Departments who aren't on our side. We'll move quickly now, and I'll need you. You understand?"

"Four times a day until symptoms resolve?" Bellatrix studied the Ibandronus Potion and said firmly, "I don't care how it tastes; I need to drink it _now_."

"Four times a day," Voldemort affirmed, pouring out a spoonful and watching as Bellatrix winced at the rancid taste. He corked the bottle and set it aside. "Until you improve. And once you improve, Bellatrix, I mean to unleash you on them in all your fury. And I look forward to that."

She blinked a few times and rolled her shoulders, smiling a little when nothing snapped or broke. When she raised her eyes to him, they were dark and cold, and she informed him,

"I look forward to it, too, Master."

 **Author's Note: Oh, my. Dumbledore done gone and severely misinterpreted his enemy. Whoops! Now for the fallout. But first, who's up for a *seriously* juicy lemon? Mwah hahaha…**

 **I can still see the text of reviews in emails, and I am receiving private messages. I'm not sure when/if the glitch with FF's system will get resolved, but in the interim, please know that I can see and greatly appreciate your feedback.**


	29. Chapter 29

Bellatrix panted where she lay in bed. Two days into the dosing of the Ibandronus Potion, she was feeling better than ever. Now she lay alone in bed, waiting for Voldemort to come back, and she was impatient.

He was off meeting with Yaxley and Rookwood to ensure the Ministry would turn as quickly as possible. The primary goal right now was to capitalise on the confusion and chaos of Dumbledore vanishing to Imperius the Minister for Magic, Eugenia Jenkins.

Bellatrix couldn't stay in bed any longer. She was restless, buzzing from the inside out. She rose from the bed and peeled off her nightgown, and she huffed as she walked into the bathroom. She turned on the shower and waited for the water to warm, finally stepping inside and unscrewing the unbreakable glass bottle of shampoo. She poured some into her hand and then began to scrub at her hair, shutting her eyes as she realised something.

She was going to marry him.

When it was all his - that was what he'd said. When it was all his, he would marry her. And soon enough, it would all be his. Dumbledore had gone down much more quickly and easily than Bellatrix could have anticipated. Soon enough, the Ministry would belong to Lord Voldemort. It would all be his soon, just like he'd said. Perhaps, she thought, they could marry in private on his forty-fourth birthday.

That was a fantasy, she realised as she rinsed her hair and put smoothing cream onto it. She scrubbed at her body with soap and thought that there was still so much to do. Dumbledore being dead wasn't enough. Jenkins had to go. The _Daily Prophet_ needed to turn, to become entirely Voldemort's. There needed to be no question that he was in charge. Then and only then would he consider marrying her, she knew.

She made her way out of the shower and stood in front of the sink, Scouring her teeth with her wand and then shutting her eyes as she ran a wide-toothed wooden comb through her wet curls. She quietly sang a little tune, and then she gasped.

"My Lord."

The comb clattered as it fell down into the sink. Bellatrix leaned back a little as his hands tossed away her towel and started to rub at her breasts. She touched his face, feeling the little bit of scruff that had been growing in for a few days now. She hummed as his thumbs flicked back and forth over her nipples. She held her breath at the way he palmed her breasts and then ran his hands down over her ribs and slim waist.

"Bella."

She opened her eyes to see him staring at her in the mirror. He was shirtless, wearing only black flannel pyjama trousers that he'd changed into. He must've come home whilst she'd been showering, Bellatrix thought. She smiled a little at him in the mirror and asked,

"How was your meeting with Yaxley and Rookwood?"

"It was actually quite encouraging," Voldemort said. He kissed Bellatrix's damp hair and seemed to be breathing in the scent of her. His hands tightened on her bare waist, and he murmured,

"They've Imperiused Jenkins. They've ordered her to stay home one day next week and tell no one. When she wakes up in the morning, she'll open her eyes to find Avery and Nott with their wands aimed at her. Minerva McGonagall has been named interim Headmistress of Hogwarts; since there's no body, they can't be sure that Dumbledore's even dead."

Bellatrix took a deep, comforting breath and whispered, "I couldn't be happier, My Lord?"

"I could," he said seriously. He turned Bellatrix around to face him, tipping her chin up with his knuckle. He dragged his front teeth over his bottom lip, his eyes shining, and he said quietly, "Marry me."

"I will," she nodded. She reached up to hold his scruffy face in her hands, and she smiled more broadly. "I will marry you, My Lord."

"Now," he specified. "Or… soon. Very soon. Marry me, Bellatrix."

She nodded again, her eyes feeling heavy and wet. "Whenever you'd like."

"Soon," he repeated. "Very soon."

Then he clutched at her wrist and started dragging her out to the bedroom. Bellatrix laughed a little until he wrenched her up onto the bed and lay on his own back, and she saw that his eyes were like black fire.

"Sit on my face," he instructed her very firmly. Bellatrix's mouth fell open, and she balked with an awkward laugh. Voldemort scowled at her. "You seem to be feeling much better. Is your body in some condition that would prevent you from doing it?"

"I didn't know… I didn't realise that a thing people did," Bellatrix mumbled. She picked at the blanket and shook her head a little. "I don't know how. Master."

"Well, I've never done it, either, but I know I want it," Voldemort said sharply. "I won't hurt you."

Bellatrix's stomach wrenched then. He'd said that to her in this bedroom, the very first time he'd ever taken her body for his own. She swept an unexpected tear away and whispered,

"You could if you wanted."

His eyes flashed then as the memory settled over him. It hadn't been so long ago, and yet in some ways it felt like an eternity.

"I don't want to hurt you," he told her. "Not ever. I want to love you, to possess you. I want you as my wife. You understand? I need it. I need you. Soon."

"Soon," Bellatrix nodded. She took a shaky breath then and straddled Voldemort's pelvis. She brushed her hips down and felt that he'd gone a bit hard. He shut his eyes and told her,

"Up here. Up to my mouth."

Bellatrix was embarrassed about putting her most private parts that near Voldemort's face, but she did as he said. She shut her eyes for a moment as she inched upward. Suddenly Voldemort put his hands on her hips and smashed Bellatrix's womanhood down onto his mouth. She gasped as she felt the bridge of his nose rubbed against her clit, and she cried out in shock when his tongue thrust up into her entrance.

"Ohhh…" Bellatrix clutched at the headboard, her knuckles going white. Voldemort's hands stayed on her hips, guiding her body as his instinct led him on. He started to slide her back and forth, which led to an almost unfathomable stimulation. Her nub was rubbing hard against his nose and lips, and he was devouring her in a way she couldn't quite describe. His lips and mouth were pressing, suckling, smashing, drawing from her.

How could he breathe? Bellatrix wondered. How could he possibly take in air when she was completely covering his face like this? He didn't seem distressed. On the contrary, he yanked her down over and over, forward and back.

"I'm going to come." Bellatrix couldn't help it. She couldn't stave off how good this felt. It was unbearably good, the way his mouth was pressing against her, sliding and - "Ahhh!"

Bellatrix let her face fall forward. She'd climbed the mountain and fallen over the edge so much faster than she could have imagined. Voldemort groaned loudly beneath her as her walls clenched around his nose and lips. His tongue lathed hard against her clit as she came. Her ears rang loudly, and her head pounded with the pleasure.

Before she knew what was happening, she'd been seized by the waist and tossed down onto her side. She panted for breath as Voldemort wrenched his pyjama trousers off and kicked them away. He rolled over atop her, using the back of his wrist to clean Bellatrix's fluids off his lips and cheeks. The sight of that took Bellatrix's breath away entirely. He just stared at her as he carefully parted her thighs and whispered,

"Wrap your legs round me, you pretty little creature."

"Mmm…" Bellatrix did as he said, and when he pushed into her body, she arched up and back a little. It felt so good to be filled like this, and he was so hard inside of her that she couldn't imagine him lasting more than a few seconds.

Somehow he managed to pump his hips over and over again, sliding his hand beneath the small of Bellatrix's back and holding her close as he filled her.

"Marry me," he murmured, and she was about to remind him that she'd already agreed. Then he added, "Tomorrow. Down on the beach, just the two of us. Marry me tomorrow."

"Yes, My Lord." Bellatrix could barely hear her own voice. As Voldemort came inside of her, his breath huffing against her neck, she realised how far she'd come with him in just a few months. It had not been all that long ago that Albus Dumbledore had drained Lord Voldemort of his magic. It had not been so very long since the time that Voldemort had Apparated down onto the beach and Splinched himself, leaving Bellatrix to heal him. She could still vividly remember the sight of him in the threshold of her short-held flat in London, the place where he'd first touched his mouth between her legs. It had not been so very long since all of that, and yet marrying him tomorrow seemed like just precisely the right thing to do.

 **Author's Note: I apologize if this was a mess or if it didn't live up to normal standards. I am not at all in a good place right now (I have schizoaffective disorder, OCD, PTSD, and epilepsy in addition to my hypergraphia). Writing has helped a little, I'm in close touch with my psychiatrist, and am taking extra meds. Please do be kind if there are a few days without updates. In the meantime, I appreciate your readership and feedback more than you know. Thank you so very much.**


	30. Chapter 30

Of course it was raining.

Voldemort sighed as he buttoned up his black silk waistcoat over a black dress shirt. He pulled on an outer robe of crushed emerald velvet, sliding on his high black boots and staring out the bedroom window.

Bellatrix was getting ready in the blue bedroom. They'd agreed to get ready separately and meet down on the beach. They were getting married today.

Voldemort swallowed hard, knowing that this marriage would need to stay private for awhile. He would have to wait to commission a ring for her. He couldn't wear one himself now. This would have to be a marital binding with no documentation, something they'd have to formalise later.

It made sense, therefore, that he might have questioned the very idea of it all. Instead he found himself completely unable to contemplate _not_ being married to Bellatrix for even a single day more.

He Waterproofed his clothes and stood, checking his reflection in the full-length mirror. He'd let his scruff keep growing in, and though it wasn't a full beard yet, he rather liked the look of it. He did seem old, he thought, compared to the nineteen-year-old who would become his bride today. He meandered over to the window and saw her Apparate onto the rocky beach below. She was wearing something black and flowing, just like she usually did.

Voldemort smiled just a little and thought that this was madness. He'd never, ever in his life wanted a wife. A wife! What a silly little idea. What a distracting, terrible notion. And, yet, he couldn't comb his hair quickly enough now. He stared at himself in the bathroom mirror for a second, deciding he looked as good as he was wont to look, and he Disapparated from there.

When he came to, he was a few dozen metres away from Bellatrix on the beach. She didn't notice him at first, for he was behind her a little. She was staring out to the grey sea, her untamed curls weighed down a bit by the softly falling rain. She had on a long-sleeved black velvet gown and a heavy matching cloak whose hood was blowing a little in the wind. The waves were crashing very nearly up to her boots.

"Bella?" Voldemort called softly, but she didn't hear him over the waves. He walked closer, his boots crunching on the sand and rock, and he knew his greying hair had plastered to his head. "Bellatrix?"

She turned to look at him, shivering a little, and she started to trot toward him to close the distance. She grinned as she approached him, and he took her face in his hands as quickly as he could. He bent and kissed her hard, tasting salt and sweet on her at the same time. Her own hands clutched at his green outer robe, and she hummed against his lips.

"Marry me," he whispered. "Now. Now. Marry me _now_."

"All right, Master," Bellatrix laughed. She pushed her curls away and pulled up her hood, and she murmured, "I've memorised the spells you wrote for me last night."

"Good girl," he purred approvingly. He stepped back and just stared at her for a moment as the chilly, soft rain fell around them and the waves crashed on the sand. He reached into his robe and pulled out his wand, and he took Bellatrix's left hand in his. He could feel her skin quivering beneath his touch, and her fingers gripped rather tightly at him.

"This is the house where I first got to know you, My Lord," she pointed out. She looked up from the beach, her eyes flicking down the wooden steps. "You first kissed me up there on the decking. You walked up those steps after you Splinched yourself. You took my virginity upstairs; you made love to me in the shower. I cooked you pasta here, and steak. You baked me a cake for my nineteenth birthday here. This is home for us, isn't it?"

"Would you like to know just where exactly we are?" Voldemort asked, and Bellatrix frowned.

"Cornwall," she said quietly, but he specified,

"The Lizard. We're very near the most southerly point in all of Britain. And, yes, Bella. This is our home. Now… will you please marry me?"

"Of course." She looked more than a little emotional now. The rain began to stop, and she used her free right hand to push down the hood on her cloak. He stared at her for a long moment then and finally touched his wand to their clasped left hands.

" _Tua, Mea, in Perpetua._ As I am yours, you shall mine, from now until the end of time. As you are mine, thus I am yours, for always. Forevermore."

Bellatrix gasped a little as silver light wound around their hands and forearms. She smiled and said in a shaky voice,

" _Tua, Mea, in Perpetua._ As I am yours, you shall be mine, from now until the end of time. As you are mine, thus I am yours, for always. Forevermore."

Inky black thread wound in a helix with the silver and then dissolved. Voldemort hesitated but finally released Bellatrix's hand. In the air between them, a parchment began to materialise, along with a quill.

 _CERTIFICATE OF MARRIAGE_ , the parchment read, along with a great volume of legal speak about how the two undersigned parties had entered willfully and with sober minds into a marriage. The self-inking quill landed neatly in Voldemort's hand, and he signed the parchment as it floated before him. Bellatrix came round, and he handed her the quill. She signed under his name, and then he took the parchment and plucked it out of the air. He rolled it up and tucked it away with his wand, and he told her,

"When the Ministry is mine, I shall have it filed straight away."

"That won't be very long," Bellatrix said confidently. "Eugenia Jenkins will be dead within a week, and so will the heads of departments who have disobeyed you. The others will fall in fear. Everything will be yours so quickly. I can feel it. I can taste it."

The sun had begun to come out, and as Voldemort stared out at the sea, he noticed that it had transformed from dark grey to vibrant turquoise. He nodded and told Bellatrix,

"I need you beside me. I'm going to tell them all at the meeting after Jenkins' death. I'm going to tell them that you're my wife."

"Master," Bellatrix said quietly. "You needn't -"

"I will do as I please," he reminded her rather harshly, "and it pleases me that everyone should know the truth. Dumbledore thought you'd be a weakness. He was wrong. He is dead, and you are my wife."

Bellatrix was crying tears of joy now, and she said softly,

"Promise me something, My Lord?"

"Yes," he answered at once, which seemed to surprise Bellatrix. She hesitated and then said,

"Things are about to go mad, I know. Tonight is our wedding night. Promise me we'll celebrate with a bottle of Champagne?"

"Each," Voldemort smirked, and Bellatrix laughed softly. He took her cheeks and brushed away the tears there. He kept his cheeky expression and said again, "A bottle of Champagne each."

"Can we fly?" Bellatrix whispered, and Voldemort nodded. He snared his arms around Bellatrix and hoisted one of her legs up.

"Wrap them round me," he suggested. Bellatrix grinned as she did, latching onto him like her life depended on it. Voldemort shut his eyes and incanted the spells he'd dreamed up to fly. He pushed his feet off of the sand and rose at once, soaring rapidly up, up, up.

He jetted out like a Muggle aeroplane across the sea, out until they could barely see the shore. Bellatrix screamed a little, but Voldemort hushed her up with a firm kiss. He did a little flip then, whirling down and around a few times, and then he spun until Bellatrix squealed in protest. He laughed against her mouth and sped in a line back toward the shore. He aimed them for the decking outside the house, and when he came down onto his feet, he said,

"You can stand now, Bella."

"Too frightened!" she giggled. He peeled her off of him and kissed her so hard that she stumbled backward a little. He seized her tiny waist in his hands as a delightful thought settled over his consciousness.

"My wife," he murmured. "Forever."

Then he hesitated with his lips against hers, because _forever_ meant different things for the two of them. He had five Horcruxes. She had none. She would wither and die at an old age, or she would fall in battle, but there was no _forever_ for her.

Not as it was right now, anyway, and Voldemort reckoned that needed to change.

"A bottle of Champagne each, you said?" Bellatrix started to drag him by the wrist into the house, and he forced a little smile. She grinned back at him, making his chest pull with sudden, unexpected grief for the death that would befall her one day, and he whispered,

"I will not lose you."

"No, My Lord." Bellatrix paused just inside the doorway and assured him, "I'm yours. Your wife. Forevermore, just like the vows said."

"I have to protect you." Voldemort's lips felt dry all of a sudden, and he felt very weak. Bellatrix understood. He could see it in her eyes. She nodded once, her face very serious, and she said,

"Once it's all yours, Master. Not right now, hm? Far too much to do. But once it's all yours, you can protect me however you like."

"Champagne," he nodded, hoping desperately that she'd at least make it through the solidification of his power. "Lots and lots of Champagne."

 **Author's Note: Awww. They're married. And he's decided - as is inevitably in my AU Bellamort fics - that he can't let her stay mortal. But what will making a Horcrux look like in this storyverse, and is it anything Bellatrix will be able to withstand? Or will he lose her before he gets the chance to see her with a Horcrux?**

 **Writing is helping me quite a bit right now, but again I apologize if it just isn't very good. I'm doing my absolute best given the circumstances and am desperately trying to stay out of inpatient. Thank you so much for reading.**


	31. Chapter 31

Bellatrix grinned at Lucius Malfoy, who had come home from Hogwarts for the Christmas holidays.

"Hello, Lucius," she said in a warm and happy tone. "Congratulations on your work with Dumbledore. The Dark Lord was so pleased with you."

"Was he?" Lucius raised his eyebrows a little and tipped his chin up. "Well. I do what I can to serve our Lord. As we all do. I am glad to have pleased him."

"Cissy writes that Minerva McGonagall won't even speak to you. She suspects you," Bellatrix said, and Lucius smirked.

"I suppose she does. They all do, I think. The Hufflepuffs are all scared shitless these days."

"Language, Lucius," scolded Abraxas sternly. "Speak in a manner befitting a Death Eater."

"Apologies, Father."

"Here he comes!" someone across the table hissed, and Bellatrix flew to her feet with everyone else. Voldemort came sweeping into the room to thunderous applause, which he quickly put down by waving his hands dismissively. He bore a happy look upon his face as he said benevolently,

"My friends. Do sit. Except for you, Nott. Avery. They are the ones deserving of our applause now."

People clapped again, Bellatrix just as enthusiastically as the rest. Voldemort nodded as the applause died down. Nott and Avery looked very pleased with themselves as they stood with hands folded before them. Voldemort sighed and said,

"My servants have been doing me quite proud as of late. Lucius Malfoy and Aeron Avery were recently made Death Eaters for their courageous and clever work bringing down Albus Dumbledore. Now I must also shower praise on the elder Avery and upon you, Nott. I must say, Jenkins was expertly done."

"My Lord." Nott bowed, as did Avery, and Voldemort pulled a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ from inside his robes.

" _MINISTER FOR MAGIC EUGENIA JENKINS FOUND MURDERED - CORBAN YAXLEY NAMED INTERIM MINISTER_." Voldemort waited for the excitement around the table to die down, and he gestured for Nott and Avery to sit. He began to pace a little and read, " _On the morning of the sixteenth, Aurors were alerted to the fact that Minister for Magic Eugenia Jenkins had not reported to her office as usual. Her assistant staff notified the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at ten in the morning, when Minister Jenkins was two hours late of her usual arrival time. Aurors reported at once to Minister Jenkins' home, where she and her husband Basil were found deceased. Both showed evidence of having withstood Killing Curses._

 _Corban Yaxley was named Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic last month after the surprise retirement of his predecessor, Noro Marten. Yaxley was quickly sworn in as Minister for Magic upon the declaration of Minister Jenkins' death, in order to avoid a situation in which there was no senior Ministry leadership._

 _An investigation into Jenkins' death was begun immediately by Achilles Avery, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. When asked about the investigation, Avery insisted that the Ministry would do everything in its power to quickly apprehend and imprison those responsible for Jenkins' murder. A memorial service and funeral will be held for Minister Jenkins for family and friends only, owing to the circumstances._ "

Voldemort stood behind Avery's chair and held out the newspaper.

"Keep it as a souvenir," he said lightly. Then he grinned wickedly and demanded, "You'll be quickly apprehending and imprisoning those responsible, will you?"

Everyone laughed a little, and Voldemort walked slowly back toward his chair.

"My friends, the Ministry has turned. Yaxley is absent today because he is sitting in the office of the Minister for Magic. Avery heads up the department leading the investigation into a killing he and Nott committed. Lucius Malfoy and Aeron Avery, my loyal servants, remain students at Hogwarts. Albus Dumbledore is dead. This world is ours!"

There was raucous applause and elated cheering then, and Bellatrix swiped gleeful tears from her eyes. Voldemort put his hands on the back of his chair and nodded slowly.

"We will begin an Office of Muggle-Born Registration within a few months' time. Soon after that, we'll confiscate wands. Fill Azkaban with Mudbloods for minor offences and have the Dementor's Kiss administered upon arrival. We'll continue taking out anyone who opposes us. And all press about me will refer to me as The Dark Lord, and it will be known that I am in charge of this country."

Everyone still looked very happy, but almost frightened, too. Voldemort finally sat and turned his eyes to Bellatrix. He flashed her a little smile, and she turned up her lips in response.

"I have married," Voldemort said simply. He finally turned his eyes back to the table, reading surprise and awe. Voldemort shrugged a little and demanded, "Any questions? No? Well done, all. Dismissed."

* * *

"You barely told them," Bellatrix teased as she flicked her wand to set the potatoes and carrots to roasting. She flipped over the chicken breasts she was sauteing and turned round. Voldemort was leaning against the kitchen doorway, and he said,

"I didn't want to go on and on about it. I'm sure they'll know exactly who I meant. Erm… you know that there's a Christmas Ball. In a few days' time."

"Of course, My Lord. There always is," Bellatrix nodded. "The Malfoys do like throwing parties."

"Rodolphus Lestrange will be there," Voldemort said, and Bellatrix's hand stilled for a half second. She cleared her throat and started to dish out chicken breasts onto plates. She shrugged and demanded,

"Why should I care about him now, Master?"

"He married on the Continent," Voldemort said, "as per my orders to get a bride quickly. He married a Veela from Germany."

Bellatrix nearly dropped her wand. A _Veela_? For some reason, the idea of it wounded her. Veela were known to be exceptionally beautiful, charming beyond measure. Hadn't Rodolphus been in love with Bellatrix? A _Veela_?

"I ordered him to marry," Voldemort said firmly. "It seems he did well for himself."

"Yes, apparently he did very well, Master." Bellatrix's breath shook as she removed the roasting spell from the potatoes and carrots. She began spooning them onto the plates, and Voldemort insisted,

"I can easily and quickly procure a House-Elf for us."

"That's a security risk," Bellatrix said, shaking her head wildly. "Anyway, I like to cook for you."

"I don't want you bogged down with household tasks," Voldemort said. "Not now that you're the wife of the Dark Lord."

"You did only just barely tell them," Bellatrix said again, picking up Voldemort's plate and shoving it toward him rather rudely. He blinked in surprise as he took the plate, and then a mildly angry expression crossed his face.

"I made that announcement precisely the way I wanted to," he snarled, stomping to the kitchen table and quickly sitting down. He Summoned a bottle of white wine and two glasses, uncorked the bottle, and poured them both wine.

"I shouldn't drink," Bellatrix said, shaking her head. Voldemort looked very sceptical all of a sudden.

"You… shouldn't drink," he repeated. "Do you know something I do not?"

"I'm not pregnant," Bellatrix said dismissively, and Voldemort breathed a sigh of relief as he took a huge swig of wine. Bellatrix reminded him, "I've been on short-term contraceptive spells since the ordeal with Dumbledore's potion, since I wasn't certain that anything I took prior to being poisoned would still work. I just took a long-lasting contraceptive potion last night, and the instructions say no alcohol for two weeks."

"Oh. Right. Well, do you mind if I indulge, seeing as I've already opened the bottle?" Voldemort asked. Bellatrix gave him a very weighty look and said,

"You can do whatever you want. You're the Dark Lord."

He sipped his wine and set it down, nodding. "Yes. I'm the Dark Lord, and I can do whatever I want. Including marrying the witch I desire. I wanted you, Bellatrix, and so I married you. Rodolphus Lestrange was in love with you, but he couldn't have you, because _I_ wanted you. So I took you. What do you think about that?"

Bellatrix suppressed the feeling of tears that was welling into her eyes. She wouldn't cry now. She dragged her finger around the rim of her plate and told him,

"I think Rodolphus can keep his Veela, Master."

"Well, you need to be prepared," he informed her. "Have you ever seen a real, full-blood Veela in person?"

"No," Bellatrix admitted. "Have you?"

He raised his eyebrows and nodded. "Yes. There was one in Romania when I was there. She had every man in a hundred mile radius lapping at her toes. I'm not sure if she was actually beautiful. They have an odd magnetism about them, Veela."

Bellatrix scoffed. "Then how did Rodolphus win himself one?"

"From what he says, she wants to be near me," Voldemort said, sipping from his wine again. Bellatrix's stomach churned. Voldemort sighed and shrugged carelessly. "Her name is Louisa, Rodolphus said. She wants to work for me. She's looking forward to meeting me at the Christmas Ball."

"Why are you telling me all of this, My Lord?" Bellatrix demanded, feeling ill. "Does it make you happy that I am sick with jealousy? Does it bring you joy to make me want to cry?"

"No," he said simply. "I am trying to prepare you. She may have married Rodolphus, but this Veela will flirt with me."

"And you'll let her, will you?" Bellatrix was overstepping, she knew, but Voldemort's face was stony.

"I will need you to stay calm," he said, "and dance with me, and perhaps engage Rodolphus in some conversation. You know that I love you, that I wanted you and I married you. You know that I mean to protect you, to keep you forever."

He hesitated then, seeming to realise something, and he gulped.

"I am more in love with you than any wizard has ever been with any witch. I can not fathom how one could possibly love anyone more excessively."

Bellatrix's lips parted then of their own accord. She studied Voldemort's face and said quietly,

"She'll compliment you on your new beard. It is exceptionally handsome."

"Perhaps I'll shave it off, then," he said, but Bellatrix shook her head.

"If you do, she'll focus on your eyes. Dark and shining, deep as a black ocean."

Voldemort sighed and said, "Perhaps I shall Transfigure them to be dull."

"Then she'll just tell you how wonderfully tall and broad-shouldered you are," Bellatrix said. Voldemort smirked just a little and told her,

"Perhaps you will feel some tiny fraction of what I felt, knowing that Rodolphus Lestrange actually loved you and wanted to marry you. But know this, Bellatrix. No matter what that Veela - Louisa - does or says, I love _you_. And I married _you,_ and I would never have married anyone else. Ever. Do you understand that?"

Bellatrix nodded silently. Voldemort looked unconvinced. He finished off his glass of wine and asked,

"Do I need to prove it to you, Bella? Do I need to show you just how ferociously and exclusively I want and love you? Hm?"

Bellatrix's heart sped up, and she smiled a little. "Perhaps you should show me, Master. Just to put my mind at ease."

Voldemort flicked his wand at the plates of chicken and vegetables and told her,

"I've sent you away from food for sex before. The first time you ever had me inside of you, I did it, didn't I? Hmm. Go upstairs, Bellatrix, and wait for your husband on our bed."

 **Author's Note: Well, writing is helping and I'm doing much better tonight. I want to personally thank everyone who sent me messages wishing me well. I really am okay. Escaping into Bellamort helps a bit. I appreciate the kindness more than I can say.**

 **NOW. I'm probably going to skip the lemon that this chapter hints at, just because I have something soooooo steamy planned for the night of the Christmas Ball, which will be the next chapter. So bear with me, and I promise the Veela threat will make for some extraordinarily sexy times between Bellatrix and Voldemort. :)**


	32. Chapter 32

"My Lord… I'm not sure if you've ever been properly introduced to my sister. Narcissa… of course you know the Dark Lord."

"Master." Narcissa Black dipped into a low curtsy, and Voldemort smiled a little at the girl as she rose. She was so different from Bellatrix, with her ice-blond hair and her silver gown. And she was still a child. Voldemort asked her,

"You're with Lucius Malfoy, are you?"

Narcissa's pale cheeks flushed red, and she stammered, "I… we… we have been casually dating, My Lord."

"He'd be a good match," Voldemort nodded. "I trust you're pleased with the recent changes in school leadership at Hogwarts?"

Narcissa grinned then, giving Bellatrix a knowing smile before telling Voldemort, "I am so proud of Lucius. And I'm extremely pleased, of course."

"Go dance with the boy," Voldemort suggested. "He looks lonely over there by his mother."

"Master." Narcissa laughed a little and flounced off toward her little boyfriend, the offspring of Voldemort's oldest friendly acquaintance.

"It would be good if she married him, wouldn't it?" Bellatrix asked. "One big happy family."

He didn't laugh at her joke, for Rodolphus Lestrange had come walking into the ballroom with a striking woman on his arm.

She was tall, at least a few inches taller than Rodolphus, and exceptionally curvy while still being thin. She was busty but lean, her skin like sun-kissed milk. Her golden hair had been brought up into a twist at the back of her head, sleek and elegant. Her blue eyes shone like gemstones, set off by the pale blue gown she wore.

This was the Veela, Voldemort knew at once. Louisa.

"I suppose we ought to meet her," he heard Bellatrix say, but he ignored her. He couldn't take his eyes off of the Veela Louisa, and it seemed no one else could, either. Bellatrix's voice was anxious beside him as she whimpered, "Oh, they're coming over here."

"My Lord," Rodolphus Lestrange said, bowing a little. He blinked and said blandly, "Bellatrix."

"It's to be _Madam Black_ now," Bellatrix said sharply, and Rodolphus tipped his head.

"My apologies. I've been gone. My Lord… Madam Black… may I introduce my wife, Louisa?"

"My Lord." Louisa gently took Voldemort's hand in hers, and he realised then that she was Bellatrix's foil. Where Bellatrix was tiny, Louisa was statuesque. Where Bellatrix was pale with wild black curls, Louisa was bronzed with straight golden hair. They were opposites, the two of them. Louisa seemed intriguing, if nothing else. The strings started up a new two-step, and Louisa pretended to be surprised. "Why… it's a dance. A new dance. I wonder, My Lord, if I may have the honour."

"What?" screeched Bellatrix, but Voldemort nodded and said simply,

"Of course. Bella, dance with Rodolphus."

"What?" Bellatrix demanded again, more softly this time. Voldemort led Louisa out to the dance floor and put his hand to her soft back. She linked their hands together and brushed her thumb over his, which felt awfully good. Voldemort's cock stirred a little beneath his dress robes, and he cleared his throat as he tried to keep his head on straight. She was a Veela, he reminded himself. She was made to distract him like this. He looked over to where Bellatrix was dancing with Rodolphus, looking for all the world like she was being tortured.

"You met him in Germany?" Voldemort asked, and Louisa nodded calmly.

"In Berlin. He said he worked for a great Dark Lord. I knew which one."

"You can't work for me," Voldemort told her, and Louisa frowned for a split second before restoring her charming smile.

"I shall do whatever you want. Anything, My Lord, to make you happy."

Voldemort sighed heavily and informed her, "Having a Veela about would be an awful distraction to a great many married wizards."

"Am I distracting?" Louisa asked innocently, and Voldemort scoffed.

"You know you are."

She smiled a little and stroked at his short-cropped beard as they danced. "I'm distracted, too, My Lord. You are very distracting. Perhaps we could find a quiet place to be distracted together."

Suddenly Bellatrix went dashing by, and Rodolphus called after her,

"Bella?"

Something snapped inside of Voldemort's head then, and he yanked Louisa's hand off of his face. He shook his head and stopped dancing.

"You married that boy to try and get access to me. You want me to leave my wife and take you, let Rodolphus have Bellatrix. I can see in your mind just as well as you can see into mine, Veela. You're not welcome in Britain. Lestrange!"

Rodolphus came walking over, and Voldemort informed him crisply,

"You made a poor decision when choosing a wife. This monster cares nothing for you."

"My sweet Dolph. Don't listen," Louisa said smoothly, but Voldemort shut his eyes, remembering the feel of the Veela's hand on his cheek. He opened his eyes and commanded her,

"Leave Britain and never return."

Louisa's face twisted hideously then, and he wondered if she would fully lose her temper, sprouting wings and a beak like angry Veela were wont to do. But instead she wrenched off her diamond rings and shoved them at Rodolphus, muttering,

" _Dumme kleine Jungen, die an der Magie spielen._ "

Rodolphus went running after her as she stomped out of the ballroom. Voldemort realised that Bellatrix was gone, and he sank his teeth into his bottom lip. He knew where she'd go. He waited a few moments, then walked calmly out of the ballroom and out into the corridor. He paused in front of a portrait of an 18th century Malfoy witch, and he asked,

"Did she go to my office?"

"Yes, she did," the portrait answered, looking judgmental in a way that irritated Voldemort. He walked quickly to his office and put his hand on the door, scowling when he realised she'd locked it.

" _Alohomora,_ " he muttered, but the door still did not open. He raised his fist to bang on the door, but he thought the better of it. He flicked his wand to undo all the wards he could feel, and then the door clicked open. He stepped inside to see Bellatrix huddled on the floor near a bookshelf. She looked very pretty in her black satin gown, he thought, even with her face red and puffy from crying. She rose when he walked in, and when he shut the door, he told her,

"I sent her away. Told her never to come back to Britain. She called Rodolphus and me little boys playing at magic and stamped off."

"She was touching you," Bellatrix sniffled, and he reminded her tightly,

"She is supernatural in her ability to woo even the most devoted wizards. That's what Veela do. But my mind was horrified… I… I love _you_. You know that."

"You danced with her," Bellatrix complained, and Voldemort licked his bottom lip, throwing his hands up.

"I'd like to see you overcome that sort of magical coercion. Come here."

She did, sniffling as she approached him. She squealed in shock when Voldemort snatched her cheeks in his hands and led her over to his desk. She cried out in surprise when he slammed her down onto his desk, sending a few parchments flying. He began to hike up her black satin skirts and the slip beneath, sliding his fingers under her knickers and murmuring,

" _Lubrico Trio_."

Bellatrix gasped at the way his fingers slid around then. She reached out for something to hold onto, but all she could find was a heavy leather book. Voldemort used his left hand to reach beneath his robes and unbutton his trousers clumsily. All the while, he felt the folds of her womanhood beneath the pads of his fingers. She was soft as silk, tight and soft and his. He groaned as he bent down to kiss her, his mouth crashing against hers as she put one high heel up onto his desk.

" _Gaudens Maxima_ ," Voldemort incanted, and Bellatrix was immediately overcome by a powerful climax. He breathed like he'd run a mile then, for the feel of her clenching around his fingers was too much. He whispered again, " _Lubrico Trio._ "

Then he dared to stick one finger inside of the hole that was so forbidden, and Bellatrix arched her back and screamed a little. He felt her tightness there and kept his thumb moving over her clit, and he panted,

" _Gaudens Maxima._ "

She came again, even harder this time. Her body was shaking as her walls snapped around Voldemort's fingers. Her cheeks had gone scarlet, and not from crying. Her little chest was heaving in her dress.

"So fucking beautiful," Voldemort whispered. "You are so damned beautiful. I love you."

She whined a little, overwhelmed, and he carefully pulled his hand from her entrances. He replaced his forefinger with his cock, sliding into her womanhood like it was home. He pumped his hips and decided he wanted to feel her come again.

" _Gaudens Maxima._ "

"Master!' Bellatrix pounded her fists on the desk then, and he ignored her. He just absorbed the feel of her coming, letting the sensation soak into his veins. He was about to lose himself, but he wasn't ready. She was too snug around him, too warm and silky, and he had to yank himself out of her body in a hurry. She cried softly at the feel of him leaving her body, so he aimed his wand between her legs and incanted with all of his might,

" _Gaudens Maxima!_ "

Bellatrix really did scream then, her fingernails digging into her hair as she came so hard that she nearly slid off the desk. Voldemort wrenched her back and held her steady as the orgasm crashed over her like an ocean wave. He couldn't hold back anymore. He began pumping his hand over his tip and down his shaft, over and over again, and he leaned back and groaned loudly at the feel of his own climax taking him hostage for a moment. His come leaped from his body, each spurt bringing a fresh thrust of ecstasy through him. He was covering her neck and chest and face, he knew. He forced his eyes open and gasped softly at the sight of it, at the way her body had been painted by the milky splatters of his seed.

"Do you believe me now?" he demanded. "Do you believe me that it's only you?"

"Yes, Master," she said through the haze of exhaustion and the pearlescent coating of come on her lips. "I believe you."

"Good," he said. "Now. Let's get you cleaned up. I want to dance with my wife."

THE END

 **Author's Note: Whew! I have loved writing this story and may very well return to it for a sequel in the future. If you have a preference for my next project, please let me know. Right now I'm considering finishing up Clocks Out of Order (Part II of my Tomione series), writing a sequel to Wars and Warlords, or writing a brand-new fic where a young Bellatrix is hurtled forward in time to 1996 (the premise being that when Bellatrix is broken out of Azkaban, she has come through time and has no knowledge of Voldemort's fall or him being resurrected in a new body). Please let me know if you have a strong preference for one of these projects. Thanks as always so very much for reading!**


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